


Where The Winds Of Fortune Take Me

by queenofkadara, Schoute



Series: The Piperford Chronicles: Piper Lavellan & Cullen Rutherford [3]
Category: Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Action/Adventure, Adventure & Romance, Alternate Universe - Pirate, Angst with a Happy Ending, CAPTAIN MAD PIPER AND HER CREW OF BEAUTIFUL MISFITS, DRAGON AGE MEETS PIRATES OF THE CARIBBEAN, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Pirate AU, Romance, Slow Burn, Smut, Suspense
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-18
Updated: 2020-02-21
Packaged: 2020-03-07 00:52:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 36
Words: 282,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18862420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenofkadara/pseuds/queenofkadara, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Schoute/pseuds/Schoute
Summary: Fenris handed Piper a salt-stained WANTED poster. “You might want to see this,” he said flatly.She took the poster with a grin. “Hah! The only thing I should be wanted for is stealing Kirkwall’s most beautiful lady and most handsome commander for my crew.” She winked jauntily at Hawke and Cullen.Cullen’s cheeks turned a charming shade of pink, and Hawke playfully fanned herself. “Why thank you, Captain,” Hawke purred. “Where are we headed next?”Piper handed the poster to Varric, then lovingly wrapped her fists around the handles of the helm. “That’s the beauty of it, my friends,” she announced. “Any fucking place we like.”*****************Also known as: pirate AU shenanigans featuring Piper Lavellan/Cullen Rutherford and Rynne Hawke/Fenris, courtesy of the inimitable Schoute and yours truly.





	1. Freedom

###  FENRIS 

Fenris sighed as he, Varric, and Piper stepped into the bustling market of Lowtown. “All right. Now that we’re here…” He raised an eyebrow at Piper. “Remind me again what we are doing here.”

Piper grinned up at him and jammed her tricorn hat onto her wild beaded hair. “The usual, of course: bargaining and booze! For me, at least. I keep hoping you’ll enjoy yourself eventually if I bring you here enough.” She strolled toward the mass of people who were milling around in the marketplace.

Varric chuckled as he and Fenris followed her toward the crowd. “Pretty high hopes there, Cap. I think our broody master-at-arms would enjoy himself more if he stayed on the _Lady Luck._ ” 

“An astute observation,” Fenris drawled. The marketplace in Lowtown was just so damned _noisy_. On a busy day like today, it was a seething throng of humans and elves and dwarves making every possible permutation of noise: patrons squabbling over the price of flour and fish, shady characters muttering as they exchanged illicit items under cover of the crowds, musicians playing with varying degrees of skill and melding together into a cacophonous catastrophe. The merchants were loudly hawking their wares, and the prostitutes were just as loudly hawking their bodies. And then there were the sailors from the Kirkwall navy who stared at the likes of Fenris with far more condescension than they should. Fenris’s skin might bear the distinctive marks of a slave, but as a member of Piper’s crew, he was far more free than any of those navy sailors would ever be.

In sum, the market was a combination of nearly everything that Fenris disliked. He shot Piper a pointed look. “Is there any chance–” 

“No,” Piper announced. She pointed imperiously at Fenris. “This is the best part of Kirkwall. I order you to find something to enjoy about this place.” 

Fenris gave her a flat look. Despite her small stature, Piper could certainly be intimidating if she wanted to be, but Fenris had difficulty taking her seriously when a smirk was curling the corners of her scarred lips. 

“I can’t,” he told her. “It is impossible.”

She gasped in mock dismay. “Mutiny!” she declared. She turned to Varric. “Take a note: Fenris tried to incite a mutiny in the market.” 

Varric smirked and shook his head, and Fenris folded his arms. “It is hardly a mutiny if none of the crew are around,” he said. 

She dropped her imperious stance and waved her hand dismissively. “Ah, you’re right. I forgive you. Come on, let’s go!” She punched Varric in the shoulder. “Back to the boat at sunset, yes?”

“You got it,” Varric said. “I’ll pay the usual guy before then.” He gave her a casual salute, then sauntered away.

Piper raised her eyebrows expectantly at Fenris, and he sighed and waved to the market in a resigned manner. “Lead on, Captain,” he said tiredly. 

“Don’t mind if I do,” she said cheerfully, and she swaggered confidently into the crowd, with Fenris skulking at her back. 

He glowered at the lively marketgoers and tried his best to avoid being jostled by the press of bodies. Piper, on the other hand, greeted and called out to merchants and criminals alike, and she gave a gold coin and a kiss on the cheek to every prostitute they passed. As they pushed their way through the market toward the Halla’s Head, she glanced at him over her shoulder. “We’ve been coming here once a month or so since you joined me. You really can’t think of anything you like about this place?” 

“Not particularly, no,” he said. 

She gave him an exasperated look, then opened her arms as expansively as she could given the bustling crowd. “Look around, Fen. This is one of the finest markets on the Waking Sea. The tasty smells, the pretty trinkets they’re selling... I bet you could find some kind of beauty in this place if you looked a little harder.”

He gave her a skeptical look, but her expression was stubborn, and Fenris sighed. He’d been sailing with Piper for long enough now that he knew this look on her face: she wouldn’t be budging until he at least tried to follow her suggestion.

He looked around wearily. He supposed the bougainvillea and wisteria crawling up the walls and across the roofs were attractive enough. But admiring the flowers was hardly a sufficient reason to leave the ship.

He glanced boredly around the market. Then, on the broad stairway that led away from the Lowtown docks and up to Hightown proper, he spotted something that caught his eye.

Or someone, rather: a beautiful and obviously high-born woman who was just as obviously out of place. She had two handmaidens and an armed attendant at her side, and her corseted and heavily petticoated dress was completely impractical. Her long dark hair was elaborately pinned and curled, and if she was in Hightown where she belonged, she would blend right in. 

At the threshold of Lowtown, however, she stuck out like a sore thumb. _Foolish,_ Fenris thought. If she set foot any further into the market, she would likely be robbed within minutes. 

Fenris narrowed his eyes. _Nobles,_ he thought, with a rush of dislike. They came to gape at places such as this, to get a sense of slumming without suffering any of the uglier consequences of being lower class. Then they returned to their clean and spacious homes full of servants and slaves and laughed amongst themselves about how the ‘other half’ lived…

But something about this particular woman was different. Her whiskey-coloured eyes were wide and wondering as they scanned the market, and her expression wasn’t smug or supercilious. It was… almost sad. Wistful, perhaps. 

Fenris couldn’t imagine why. A woman like that had all the privilege the world could afford. She had no right to be sad. 

Then her roaming gaze found his face. 

The woman stared at him, and Fenris froze under the unexpected boldness of her stare. Her pale slender fingers rose to rub at the scarlet ribbon choker around her throat, and a surprisingly saucy smile lifted her lips. 

Fenris swallowed down the buzzing in his chest, then tore his eyes away from hers and turned back to Piper, who was staring expectantly at him. “Well?” she said. “See anything you like?”

“No,” he said bluntly. He jerked his chin in the direction of the Halla’s Head. “Come. We should move on. The afternoon is growing late, and I can only imagine you must be thirsty.”

She grinned at him. “So full of good ideas, you are. Keep it up and the crew will be ousting me to make you the captain instead.” She skilfully pushed her way through the crowd and in the direction of her favourite elven tavern. 

She boldly shoved open the doors to the Halla’s Head, and there was a brief silence at her bolshy entrance. Then a mixture of cheerful greetings and grumbled complaints filled the air as the clientele and bar staff alike recognized the notorious Mad Piper. 

She waved her hands as though to calm them, then swaggered inside and straight to the bar. “Rum for me and my friend here,” she announced to the barkeep with a nod at Fenris, then strolled over to a nearby table and plopped down on the bench. 

Fenris wrinkled his nose. “Sour ale, vomit, and the smell of desperation,” he groused. 

Piper placed her hat on the table and shot him a chiding look. “Ah now, it’s not that bad. I can smell a hint of camaraderie, can’t you?”

He scoffed and glanced around the Halla’s Head with an air of indifference, but in truth, he was sussing out the threats. It was mostly other elves here today, which significantly decreased the chances of a fight — unfortunately for Piper. 

Then his eyes landed on a table in the darkest back corner of the tavern: a pair of large human men who were muttering to each other and darting dirty looks in Piper’s direction. 

_Ah. She will be pleased,_ Fenris thought. He wandered toward her, then sat at a different table altogether. 

She raised her eyebrows. “What are you doing over there? Do _I_ smell?” She raised her arm and sniffed one of her armpits.

Fenris rested his elbows on the table. “No. I am simply being prudent.”

Piper scoffed. “What do you mean by that?”

He gave her a knowing look. “Do not play coy with me. I know exactly why we’re here and why you announced yourself in such a… grand fashion.”

She raised her eyebrows innocently. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” She smiled and winked as an elven serving girl approached with two tankards. “Keep ‘em coming, love,” she said, and she gave the girl three gold coins.

The serving girl’s eyes widened at the small fortune in her palm. She shoved it into the pocket of her apron, then beamed at Piper before giving Fenris his tankard and hurrying back to the bar for more. 

Piper gulped down her first drink, then wiped her mouth on her sleeve and looked at Fenris. “What?” she said.

He smiled faintly and shook his head. “And you hassle _me_ for giving away my shares of the coin we plunder.” 

She raised an eyebrow at him and smirked. “At least I’m getting a little something in return for mine,” she reasoned. “Your whole emptying-my-purse-on-the-elven-urchins thing is great, but you could occasionally treat yourself to a little something nice.”

Fenris toyed idly with the string of the coin pouch that hung at his belt. “I have no need for it,” he said.

Piper shrugged. “Suit yourself. Maybe you’ll find something someday that you’ll want to spend a coin or two on.” She smiled as the serving girl came back with another tankard. 

As promised, the serving girl kept the drinks coming, and Fenris watched with a weary sort of amusement as Piper became more garrulous than usual as her sobriety steadily ebbed away. Soon she was goading the other customers to sing shanties with her, and then she was dancing with the serving girl who seemed to have become her new best friend.

And that, as expected, was when the two hulking humans in the corner of the tavern rose from their table and lurched toward her. 

“You there,” one of them grunted. He pointed a fat finger at Piper. “Wench. You skipped out on our game last time you was in town.”

Piper stopped dancing and faced him with wide eyes. “Who, me? Skip out on a game?” She blinked innocently, then abruptly dropped the harmless act and leaned casually against the bar. “You bet I did. You try to grope me during a game, the least you should lose is your coin.” She raised an eyebrow. “Care to know the most you should lose?”

The two men narrowed their eyes, and Fenris sipped his drink. He had his cutlass and his knives at hand if needed, but he knew exactly what Piper was hoping for, and his interference would only get in the way of that. 

The second beefy human stepped toward her and penned her against the bar, then grabbed the front of her shirt and hauled her onto her tiptoes. “You think you can talk to us that way, yeh knife-eared bitch?”

“I do, in fact,” she said. Then she slammed her knee into his crotch.

There was a collective gasp around the tavern as the man bent over double with a breathless _oomph,_ and Fenris took another sip from his tankard of rum. He watched as the other human took a swing at Piper, only for her to dodge under his arm and pummel his right flank with a swift series of punches that had him on his hands and knees in seconds. 

There were a few screams and curses, and a number of clients ran out of the tavern, but Fenris ignored them. _Good technique,_ he thought idly. He’d taught Piper that maneuver himself, and it was undeniably pleasing to see it used on a pair of foul humans such as these. 

The two men were down on the ground, but Piper didn’t stop there. With no small effort, she rolled one man onto his back and struck him square in the nose with the heel of her hand. 

Fenris nodded approvingly, then continued to watch as she pummeled the two men. One of them eventually pulled a knife from his belt, and Fenris momentarily tensed, but Piper dodged deftly from his clumsy swings and eventually managed to pin his dagger arm behind his back, then grabbed his greasy ponytail and slammed his face onto the straw-covered ground. 

Fenris winced slightly. Then the doors of the tavern burst open, and three officers of the Kirkwall navy stepped inside. 

Fenris hunched his shoulders in a falsely deferential manner. He would always be distinctive with his white hair and the white scars that marred his tawny skin, but body language did wonders for making him blend in with other elves. As always, it was effective; the navy officers’ keen gazes slid right past him as they scanned the bar for the source of the trouble.

The head officer’s gaze fell on Piper, and he sighed. “Mad Piper,” he said in resignation. 

“That’s _Captain_ Mad Piper to you,” she cheerfully corrected.

Fenris bit back a smirk. The officer, however, was unimpressed. He pulled a pair of shackles from his belt and gestured for her to stand. “You’re under arrest. Again.”

She snapped her fingers as she rose to her feet. “Oh curses,” she said happily. “I don’t want to be arrested at all. What a fucking shame.”

“Hmm,” the lead officer said suspiciously. “If that’s the case, I wonder why it happens with such regularity.” 

“Bias,” she announced as she obediently allowed the officer to chain her hands. “Sexism. Racism. Call it what you will. But who am I to defy the law?”

The officer raised an eyebrow at her. “Defy the law? You’re a bloody pirate.”

She gasped in mock horror. “Why, Lieutenant Rylen, Such language! I should tell the dear Commander about your cursing. Then you’ll be in trouble.”

Rylen frowned as he pulled her toward the doors. “Not as much as you, I fear.” 

“Ooh, I certainly hope not,” Piper purred. Right before Rylen marched her out the door, she tossed Fenris a surreptitious wink. 

He shook his head in exasperation, and she grinned. A moment later, she and her unruly cloud of silver hair were gone.

Now that he was alone, Fenris smirked to himself, then slowly finished his drink as he watched the other two officers shackling Piper’s victims as well. He knew that Piper enjoyed the Lowtown market, what with all the people and the rich food and drink and the merchants and their merry wares. 

But Fenris also knew the truth: there was one and only one real reason that Piper enjoyed coming to Kirkwall so regularly. And now that she’d been arrested for the umpteenth time, she would be seeing that reason very soon.

###  CULLEN 

Cullen read the document on his desk with slightly heated cheeks. He idly tugged at his cuffs, then glanced up at Rylen with all the stern composure he could muster. “Mad Piper? _Again?_ ” he demanded.

Rylen bowed slightly. “Yes, Commander. She was assaulting a pair of–”

“I read the report, yes,” Cullen snapped. He rose to his feet. “Well, given what happened the last time she was in jail, I suppose I will have to supervise her myself.”

Rylen grimaced and unconsciously rubbed a spot on his forehead – the spot that had sported a bump for some time after Piper’s last arrest. “Y-yes. I… my apologies, Commander, it was a foolish mistake–”

Cullen sighed and waved him off. “Don’t apologize. She is unpredictable in the extreme. Now go on back to Lowtown and continue your patrols.”

Rylen saluted him sharply, then strode out of the navy headquarters. Cullen watched him go, then rose from his desk and smoothed a hand down the buttons of his coat before striding toward the door that led to the jail cells in the basement. 

Just before he descended the stairs, he patted his pockets and belt to make sure he wasn’t carrying any keys, then finally began to make his way down the dark stone steps. As soon as he reached the bottom of the stairs, he heard the distinctive silken purr of her voice. 

“Why, if it isn’t the Golden Boy himself. To what do I owe this pleasure?”

Cullen looked over at the cell farthest from the stairs. In the dim and flickering light of the oil lamps that hung from the walls, he could just make out her small figure sitting on the pallet in the cell, but the ethereal silver colour of her hair was unmistakable. 

She rose to her feet, then sashayed over to the door of the cell and casually draped her slender arms through the bars. Cullen rubbed his mouth to hide a smile, then lifted his chin and folded his arms. “You leave me little choice,” he said. “Lieutenant Rylen can no longer keep watch when you’re in our care.” 

She blinked. “Why not? Should I be offended?”

Cullen gave her a knowing look. He didn’t believe her innocent look for a second. “You tricked Rylen by making a scene about an imaginary scorpion in your cell, and you think _you_ should be the offended party?” he drawled.

“Ah, yes,” she said. She winked. “Apologize to him for me, won’t you? I honestly didn’t mean to hit him. I really didn’t think the door would swing open quite that quickly. These hinges are terribly rusty.” She experimentally rattled the bars of her cell door. 

Cullen raised an eyebrow, then chuckled and shook his head. “Wanting to apologize to the navy officer that you terrorized the last time he arrested you? You are an odd pirate, Captain Lavellan.”

She batted her eyelashes at him. “Please, Cullen, no need to stand on ceremony. My friends get to call me Piper.”

Cullen forced his face into a frown. “We are not friends,” he informed her. “A Commander of the Kirkwall Navy cannot fraternize with criminals.”

“Oh, Cullen,” she said chidingly. “I think we’re more than friends. I think you quite enjoy the feeling of wrapping those strong hands of yours around my wrists before you chain me up.” She pressed her face closer to the small gap in the door of her cell and lowered her voice to an intimate purr. “We’ll have to try it without the bars between us someday.”

Cullen swallowed hard as a prickle of heat rippled down the back of his neck. She was smiling at him, smiling that troublemaker’s grin that she so frequently wore. But the nebulous light of the lamps set her eyes aglow, and those eyes… They held so much warmth. A genuine kind of warmth that Cullen would never have expected to see in a dastardly pirate’s face.

Cullen considered the little elf in front of him. She’d been sneaking into Kirkwall approximately once a month for almost a year now, and somehow she managed to find herself in jail every time, usually for disturbing the peace in one way or another. Often it was with a fight, like had happened today. Other times it was for stealing a purse full of coin from a Hightown citizen and throwing said coin into a crowd while announcing a ‘golden shower’. Foolish and pointless disturbances, to be sure, but nothing truly heinous – nothing like the pirates Cullen had met in the past. 

As far as he knew, Piper wasn’t a vicious murderer or a rapist or a pillager of innocents. Her name had never come up in any reports of pirates who had attacked a naval vessel unprovoked. From what he’d heard and what she’d told him, she primarily raided slaver ships, other pirates, and the odd private vessel. She was hardly the kind of menace that Cullen abhorred; she simply seemed like a troublemaker and a nuisance. 

_But she is still a pirate,_ he reminded himself. Her actions were still illegal, and her activities still constituted theft. Piper was a criminal, and Cullen couldn’t fraternize with a criminal.

Not that he was actually considering fraternizing with her. Not by any means. 

He rubbed his nose and tried hard to ignore the widening of her grin. Then she pulled her arms free from the bars and leaned casually against the door. “Well, while we’re here, why don’t I finish telling you that story I started the last time I visited?”

Cullen smiled faintly at her. “‘Visited’, you say. As though your being imprisoned was a choice.”

“No, of course not,” she said smoothly. Too smoothly. 

Cullen narrowed his eyes slightly. What did that mean? She was _trying_ to get locked up in prison on purpose?

She tilted her head. “Do you want to hear the rest of the story or not?”

Cullen gazed at her for a moment, and she steadily returned his stare. Finally he sighed and leaned against the bare stone wall beside her cell. “All right. I would hear the rest of this story, if you’re offering.” He chanced a small smile. "You did leave it on quite the cliffhanger last time. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a little curious."

Her smile broadened. “Excellent,” she said. “Now where was I? Oh yes, the mermaid. She gave me this bead…” She lifted a braided a lock of her silvery hair, which was adorned with a bright aquamarine glass bead. “... and she kissed me on the forehead. I’m not certain what that means among the merfolk, but for all I know, we could be engaged.”

Cullen shook his head. “Maker’s breath,” he muttered. 

She chuckled. “Indeed! Now listen carefully, because this is where it gets odd. Three days later, we were sailing due west – complete opposite direction of the island where I spotted my mermish lady. But as the sun is starting to set, our pilot starts to panic. ‘There’s an island off the port bow that’s not on this blasted map,’ he says, so I leave Varric at the helm and I run over to look.” She widened her big elven eyes. “Sure enough, it’s the same island where I saw the mermaid, just three days past.”

Cullen raised his eyebrows skeptically. “And you’re certain that your pilot was not drunk or incompetent?”

Piper scoffed. “Dorian? Not a chance. He’s a lush when he’s off-duty, but when we’re on the ship, he’s the most fastidious navigator you’ll ever know. No, it was certainly the same island, even though we’d just as certainly been sailing straight in the opposite direction.”

Cullen _harrumphed_. “All right,” he said. “So what did you do?” 

“I went to investigate, of course,” she said, as though it was completely obvious.

Cullen huffed in amusement and gave her a knowing little smile. “On your own, I suppose?”

She grinned. “See? You know me so well. How can you say we’re not friends?”

He cleared his throat and scratched the back of his neck. “Fine. You investigate this island on your own. And what do you find?”

“It’s the mermaid again,” Piper replied. “We spent the evening together – not like that, you pervert,” she snickered. “She did have a fish’s tail, after all. But when the dawn came, she kissed me on the forehead again, and she gave me this bead.” She lifted another braid – this one decorated with a bead of clear golden amber.

Cullen frowned curiously at her braid, then darted his eyes back to her face. “I had wondered whether those beads of yours had any significance,” he said. “What…?” He trailed off as her pretty face creased with a smile. 

“Been thinking about these braids of mine, have you?” she purred.

He winced. That was a rather embarrassing thing to have admitted. He ran a hand through his hair and tried to change the subject. “What happened next?” he said bluntly. 

She turned to face the bars once more. “We left the island. Sailed due south this time, a complete straight-line course – Dorian was absolutely sure of it. And can you guess what happened?”

Cullen raised his eyebrows. “You found yourselves at that same island.”

“Exactly,” she said. “Now if I’m being honest, I was a little annoyed by this time. If I wanted to go back to the same places over and over, I’d be a bloody landlubber. I just want to sail the open seas in peace and not always come back to this same island all the time, you know?”

“Hmm,” Cullen said noncommittally. Piper was obviously spinning a tall tale for his amusement, but the way she was telling it – the conviction in her tone and her expressively gesturing hands: it was all so convincing. If Cullen was some superstitious sailor, he would think she was telling the truth. But Cullen knew the truth: there was nothing magical about the sea, neither literally nor figuratively. 

He tucked his hands into the pockets of his navy coat. No harm in having her finish the tale, however. “Did you confront this mermaid, then?” he asked.

“I did,” Piper replied. “Or I tried to, at least. When I told her how displeased I was to be stuck on her bloody island again, she just smiled at me. She kissed me once more, and gave me another bead.” She lifted a third braid, this one near her left temple. Sure enough, it was decorated by a bead made of brilliant green jade.

Cullen frowned. “But what do they all _mean?_ ”

Piper nodded. “I asked her that. ‘What worth do these have?’ I said. ‘Tell me why I shouldn’t throw them straight into the sea’.” She stepped closer to the door and lowered her voice. “Do you know what she said to me?”

Cullen studied her in silence for a moment. Her eyes were wide with wonder but also serious somehow, and Cullen found himself leaning forward slightly to hear her better.

“What?” he asked. “What did she say?”

Piper placed her delicate fingers on the bars of her jail cell door. “This is what she said. _‘The sun, the land, and the sea: I give you these beads three. As long as you sail, your heart will prevail: these beads are all you shall ever need.’_ ”

He stared at Piper speechlessly. Had she come up with that little verse on her own? No, it didn’t seem like her. Piper wasn’t a poetry kind of woman. But if she hadn’t invented the poem… 

He lifted his chin. “You’re making that up.”

She shook her head slowly. “I’m not. I swear on the _Lady Luck._ That’s what the mermaid said to me, right before she slid back into the sea.”

Her face was utterly serious now, and a little shiver ran down Cullen’s spine. He nervously licked his lips, then leaned back against the wall. “Well. That was… entertaining, to say the least.” 

A tiny smile lifted the corner of her lips. “You see what she really meant, don’t you?”

He frowned slightly. “What do you mean?”

Her smile softened. “Freedom,” Piper said. “She meant being free. Sailing in the sunshine across all the lands that are sprinkled across the sea: that’s the life for me.” She sighed happily and leaned against the jail cell door. “That mermaid knew me well.”

Cullen studied her profile with an odd sort of squeezing feeling around his chest. The way Piper spoke of sailing and the sea, like it was the finest life she could imagine… 

It was nothing like Cullen’s experience in the navy had been. As a young sailor, Cullen had always been shamefully prone to an odd sort of cabin panic thanks to the cramped quarters on the ships, and the other sailors had never let him forget it. As he’d risen through the ranks, his finest comrades had fallen during horrendous naval battles with pirates, and their screams of pain and their cries for mercy still rang in his ears at night. When Admiral Meredith had called on him to return to Kirkwall, Cullen couldn’t deny the relief he’d felt at the idea of keeping the peace in Kirkwall instead of on the seas. His landbound duties weren’t nearly as exciting as holding command on a ship, but protecting these people from pirates was a noble and necessary calling. 

But Piper… She looked so happy when she spoke of the sea. With her wild beaded hair and her sun-kissed golden skin, she herself was almost like a siren made real. Her passion for the open seas was one of the reasons that Cullen found their once-monthly conversations so strangely compelling. 

He folded his arms once more. “You aren’t free now, though. You’re stuck in jail.”

She shrugged and smiled. “I suppose I am right now, yes.”

He peered at her slightly suspiciously, then decided to disregard her mischievous tone for now. He tilted his head curiously. “You talk about not returning to the same places twice,” he said. “So why do you return to Kirkwall? Why do you come back month after month?”

Her smile widened. “Oh, Golden Boy,” she said softly. “You’re a sweet one, aren’t you?”

He frowned with growing bemusement. “I… I’m not sure what you mean.”

Just then, there was a clattering of footsteps on the stairs, and one of Cullen’s lieutenants appeared. “Commander!” he exclaimed. “There’s a disturbance at the main entrance – a fight over a crate of fine Antivan rum, it seems, but I’m not sure where it came from, and the citizens are practically in a riot–”

Cullen instantly straightened. “I’ll be right there,” he snapped, and the lieutenant saluted swiftly before running off. 

Cullen sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “My apologies, Piper, I must attend to–” He stopped short, then frowned at her. “Wait a moment. Why am I apologizing to you? You’re a pirate. And a prisoner.” 

She laughed. The sound was warm and bright and sultry, and Cullen felt his cheeks going embarrassingly warm as she looked him in the eye. “So very sweet,” she purred, then she waved him off. “Go deal with your duties, Commander. I’ll be here when you get back.”

He narrowed his eyes at her. Her tone was exceedingly casual, and he wasn’t entirely sure that he could trust it. But he was badly needed out front… 

He gave her a stern look. “Stay out of trouble,” he warned her, and he hurried toward the stairs. As Cullen ran up the steps, he was followed by Piper’s laugh.

The bright, tantalizing siren call of her laugh.

###  PIPER 

Piper watched as Cullen sprinted up the stairs, then sighed contentedly and plopped down on the lumpy pallet in her cell. It wouldn’t be long now, what with the disturbance happening upstairs.

Sure enough, it wasn’t more than two minutes later that Piper heard a soft whistle. She looked up to see Varric strolling into the jail and twirling a key in his fingers. 

She grinned at him as he unlocked her cell. “A whole crate of Antivan rum? Whose idea was that?” 

“Fenris’s,” Varric replied. “Don’t worry, only half of it was actually from Antiva. The other half was swill.” He shrugged. “Hence the riot.” 

Piper chuckled as he pulled open the door to her cell. She rose to her feet, then snapped her fingers in remembrance. “Did you happen to notice if–”

“Yes, Fenris brought your hat from the Halla’s Head,” Varric said patiently. He patted her elbow. “Now let’s get the hell out of here before the head jailer realizes a certain key is missing from his belt.”

“Just one second,” Piper said. With the toe of her boot, she scrawled a rough shape into the grime that coated the ground in her cell. 

Varric tilted his head and wrinkled his nose at what she’d drawn. “A heart? Really?”

Piper nodded sagely. “You’re right. It needs something.” She stepped back, the used her toe to trace one more shape into the middle of the heart. 

Varric chuckled. “‘P’ is for Piper, I presume?” 

“Not at all!” Piper said innocently. “‘P’ is for pirate, of course. The Commander needs a bit of an attitude change. I’m simply helping him out.” 

“Uh-huh,” Varric said. “I’m sure that’s exactly how he’ll see it.” He placed the stolen key carefully in the middle of the heart so Cullen would know they’d returned it – as well as Piper’s method of escape. Piper then led Varric cautiously up the stairs. 

The way was clear; most everyone was occupied by the cranky mob outside, and Piper and Varric snuck over to the nearest open window for a brisk escape. She slid out of the window and landed lightly on the balls of her feet, and she was followed a moment later by Varric’s louder thump of impact. Then they were running away from the navy headquarters as quickly and inconspicuously as they could. 

Fenris was waiting for them at the mouth of Darktown. He gave her his usual unsmiling nod as she approached, then handed her her hat. 

“Thanks,” she said brightly, and she plopped the hat on her head. Together, the three of them began the trek through the dregs of Darktown toward the decrepit docks where their little boat was moored.

Varric glanced up at her. “Cap, I have to ask. What’s your play here? Why do you keep letting the Commander arrest you?”

“Is it not obvious? She wants him,” Fenris said. “It is pathetic. And admirable.”

Piper looked at him in surprise. “Why, thank you, Fenris!” She turned to Varric. “See, Fen knows what I’m about.”

Varric opened his mouth to reply, but Fenris wasn’t finished. “Admirable insofar as the Commander seems… not a complete paragon of corruption within the navy ranks. Otherwise, this whole endeavour is a repeating cycle of idiocy.”

Piper wrinkled her nose at him, then shrugged. “You know what, I’ll still take that as a compliment.” She cocked her head thoughtfully. “Somehow.”

Varric frowned slightly as they stepped over a drunken pair of dwarves. “Seriously though, Piper, what are you hoping will happen here?” he asked. “We can keep coming back to Kirkwall if you want. It’s a decent place to resupply. But… I mean…” He grimaced. “He’s a scrupulous navy commander. You’re a pirate. What’s the point?”

Piper gave him an incredulous look. “Varric, what’s the point of anything? Enjoying ourselves! Living this wild sea dog life! And if it means resupplying in Kirkwall every now and then…” She shrugged again and jauntily hooked her thumbs into her belt. “Well, I just go where the winds of fortune take me.”

Fenris huffed. “Or your unsated libido, it seems.”

“Unsated for now,” she retorted with a roguish smirk. 

Varric chuckled, but Fenris folded his arms. “It will never happen,” he said flatly. “Humans of their stature would never lower themselves to the likes of us.” 

His sneering voice was thick with disdain – for the humans, Piper knew, but still she tilted her head in mock confusion. “‘Us’ as in elves, or pirates?” 

“Take your pick,” Fenris said. “It is a pipe dream, Captain. You know that.” 

“Ah, but what you call a pipe dream, I call a Piper dream,” she said slyly. She clapped him and Varric on their backs and pushed them toward the docks. “Now come on, boys, let’s get on with resupplying while that ruckus is still going on.” She pointed at Fenris. “Good job with that, by the way. Remind me to pay you back for the good rum.” 

“I certainly will,” he drawled, and Piper smirked as she and her two faithful crewmen piled into the boat. While Fenris rowed them to Lowtown’s docks under cover of darkness, Piper thought dreamily about the handsome Commander Cullen.

Fenris wasn’t wrong. Her crush on Cullen was a fantasy, and it was unlikely at best and delusional at worst to think it would go beyond flirtation.

But Piper couldn’t help herself. There was something about Cullen that piqued her interest in more ways than one. With every soft splash of the oars, her smitten mind seemed to remind her how nice it was to talk to him: his handsome scars his innocent questions; his boyish and barely-concealed wonder when she told her stories, and the oddly jaded weight of his words when he denied their truth; his lovely frown and his even lovelier smile.

Cullen was a good man. Piper could see that clearly. But he’d been wounded too, and it was evident in more than just the scars on his face. She knew he’d fought with other pirates in the past, the type of pirate that Piper herself would put down in a heartbeat, and she knew he’d been deeply suspicious of her when they’d first met.

It only made her more determined to help him come round to the idea that not all pirates were bad. And if that meant cajoling him into the idea of – _ahem_ – fraternizing with her in the process, well… she had always been a lucky girl, after all. 

And nothing would be better than getting lucky with that precious Golden Boy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who are new to the works of myself and Schoute: welcome to the dumpster fire of our madness, and BEHOLD OUR STUFF! 
> 
> We are respectively trash for FenHawke and Cullavellan, and our OCs (Piper Lavellan and Rynne Hawke) are BFFs in every AU ever. Schoutey is a HUGE fan of pirates, and I am honoured to be dragged into this AU hell.
> 
> If you like, you can read more about Rynne and Piper and their boys in our bartender AU [Damned Spot (Fenris/Rynne)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17710157/chapters/41780090) and [The Luck of the Law (Cullen/Piper).](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17966816/chapters/42436517)
> 
> Come yell at us on Tumblr! [Here is Schoute,](http://schoute.tumblr.com/) and I am [Pikapeppa, at your service.](https://pikapeppa.tumblr.com/) xoxo


	2. Fantasy

###  CULLEN 

“Come in,” a stern female voice barked.

Cullen straightened and smoothed one hand over his cravat, then pushed open the polished wooden door. 

Admiral Meredith Stannard was standing by the window with folded arms. She turned to face him at the opening of the door. 

“Commander,” she said with a sharp nod. She gestured to one of the chairs in front of the pristinely polished desk, then launched into business without any preamble. “I have heard there is an increase in pirate-related crimes in Lowtown. What will you be doing about this?”

Cullen deftly adjusted the sword at his waist as he sat in the chair. “There has been a modest increase in minor crimes,” he admitted. “But the lieutenants and I–”

Meredith placed her gloved palms on the surface of the desk. “I’ve been informed that a pirate escaped from jail on these very premises,” she said. “During your watch. That is hardly an incident that I would call ‘modest’.”

Her stern tone and expression were as neutral as always, but her clear blue eyes were piercing. Cullen forced himself not to betray the sudden lurch of nerves in his belly at the mention of Piper’s escape. 

He bowed his head briefly. “It was my responsibility, Admiral,” he said quietly. “It will not happen again.” Never mind that this wasn’t the first time Piper had evaded long-term imprisonment in Kirkwall. In fairness, this was only the second time she had escaped without Cullen’s knowledge; the other times she’d been imprisoned, she or Varric had either exploited the foibles of Kirkwall law to talk her out of being kept for longer than three days, or the men she’d injured had suddenly and mysteriously retracted their accusations of assault, resulting in her being released from jail without further penalty.

It wouldn’t do to point this out to Meredith, however. Cullen had failed in his duties enough already by inadvertently allowing Piper’s escape two weeks ago. 

Meredith frowned. “It certainly won’t,” she said. “I am henceforth commanding more stringent punishment for any acts of crime committed by pirates in this city.” 

Cullen raised his eyebrows slightly. “More stringent punishment?” he said. “Entailing what, precisely?”

“The noose,” she said succinctly. 

A jolt of shock rocketed through his chest. He forced his face not to register it. “The noose? For… for what crimes?”

“All crimes committed by pirates,” Meredith said. “They are the bane of Kirkwall. Their unlawful activities place the rest of our law-abiding citizens at risk.” She began to pace slowly behind the desk. “The lenient approach has not worked. These criminals have not earned the benefit of the doubt that their presence in Darktown and Lowtown implies. If you or your men should capture any pirates committing illegal acts in Kirkwall, you will immediately arrest them and sentence them to death. Is this understood?”

Cullen hesitated, and Meredith’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Is there a problem, Commander?”

He nervously licked his lips. Meredith’s orders smacked of wrongness, but Cullen couldn’t entirely verbalize why. After all, he would have been of the same mind as her a mere year ago. But now, the thought of hanging a pirate for a minor crime – of hanging someone like Piper for defending herself from human attackers who were twice her size… 

A chill ran down his spine. But he could hardly state his trepidation to Meredith – not when the pirate he wanted to defend was the very same one who had slipped out of prison right beneath his nose. 

Which then begged the question as to why Cullen wanted to defend the troublesome little elf in the first place.

Confused and worried, he did the only thing he could do: he bowed his head respectfully to his commanding officer. “No, Admiral. It is not a problem.”

She studied him for a moment longer, then nodded. “Good. There is one other matter. This pirate who escaped: this Mad Piper, as she is known.” Meredith picked up a tidy sheaf of parchment from the desk. “She has been a problem in Kirkwall for an entire year now, from what I understand.”

 _Maker’s breath,_ Cullen thought. He swallowed hard, then prayed that Meredith hadn’t noticed his nerves. “Yes,” he said carefully. “She often frequents the Lowtown market.” 

Meredith nodded, then pulled out a piece of parchment from the stack in her hands and gave it to Cullen. 

He took the parchment, and his heart thumped anxiously. It was a WANTED poster featuring Captain Mad Piper herself, complete with a (rather fetching) sketch of the elven captain, along with a list of all her crimes: theft, obstructing merchant activity, multiple counts of assault on citizens, multiple counts of assaults on naval officers, public indecency, disturbing the peace, inciting riots, and impersonating the Divine.

_Impersonating the Divine…?_ he thought incredulously. Then Meredith spoke again, interrupting his racing thoughts. “The Kirkwall printers are in the process of making these posters en masse. They will be ready in two days’ time.” She took the poster back from Cullen. “You will arrest this criminal the next time she makes an appearance in Kirkwall, whether she commits a crime or not,” Meredith said. “An example will be made of her. Any pirates wishing to take advantage of this fair city will know the kind of justice that awaits them here.”

Cullen’s pulse was thumping in his ears. The list of Piper’s crimes flickered through his mind – a multitude of crimes, but none of them truly horrific. She wasn’t like the pirates who had attacked his ship ten years ago and murdered all of his men without a second thought. Piper was trouble, but she wasn’t a monster. She was a pirate, but she didn’t deserve the noose. 

She didn’t deserve this. 

He cleared his throat. “Admiral, if I may–”

Meredith interrupted him. “We are also making WANTED posters for that other elf on her crew,” she said. “The dangerous-looking one. You will bring him in as well.”

Cullen’s eyebrows rose in undisguised surprise. “You mean Fe–?” He broke off and bit his lip before he blurted out the name of Piper’s master-at-arms. It would be career suicide to admit that he had enough knowledge of Piper’s life to know the names of her closest crew. 

He tried again. “That crew member of hers is not known for any illegal activity,” he reasoned. “There have been no reports of his involvement in any violent or criminal activities.” 

Meredith gave him a hard look. “He is the known associate of a notorious pirate. That is damning enough.” 

Cullen inhaled slowly to try and calm his racing heart. Meredith’s attitude was alarming, and it had been getting more worrying as the year had worn on. The Admiral had always been a strict but fair leader, and this was partly why Cullen had been pleased to return to Kirkwall on her orders. Cullen and Meredith had seen eye-to-eye about the dangers of piracy for many years, and Cullen had never had reason to question her orders before. But over the past year or so, he’d started to become more uncertain about the justice of Meredith’s decisions. 

For the first few months, Cullen hadn’t been sure whether his uncertainty about Meredith was related to his own regrettable softening toward pirates, or whether Meredith’s orders were truly questionable. But the conversation they were having now made it clear that the problem was not just Cullen’s leniency. 

Fenris had committed no known crimes in Kirkwall, but Meredith was ordering his punishment. This was a clear injustice, and Cullen couldn’t in good conscience allow it to pass, no matter the consequences that it might bring to him.

He sat up a little straighter in his chair. “Admiral,” he said. “I… I regret that I cannot follow those orders.”

Meredith recoiled slightly. “I beg your pardon?”

“I cannot arrest Mad Piper’s master-at-arms,” he said. “He has no criminal record here. Any crimes he may have done are outside of our jurisdiction. It would be a… an abuse on my part as a commander of the navy to arrest him.”

Meredith glared at him for a long moment, and Cullen held his breath as he waited for her verdict. Finally she sighed and waved an impatient hand. 

“You are correct,” she said, to Cullen’s great relief. But his relief was short-lived as she continued to speak. “We will have to think something else. I will speak to the Viscount about drafting a new anti-fraternization law.” 

Cullen frowned slightly. “Anti-fraternization law?”

She nodded. “Any known associates of a pirate must be punished for aiding and abetting their crimes,” she announced. She rubbed her chin thoughtfully. “I will think on the phrasing. You will assist me with this.”

Cullen stared at her with growing alarm. “I…” 

She frowned at him, and he cleared his throat and nodded decisively, even though he felt anything but. “Yes, of course,” he said.

She nodded in response, then waved a hand for him to rise. Cullen stood up, and Meredith gave him her usual stern look. “Remind your men to keep an eye out for this Mad Piper. The WANTED posters will go up in three days, and then the whole city will have an eye out for her. But if she should appear before then, she must not go free.”

Cullen bowed. “Admiral,” he murmured, then left her office. 

He headed straight for the main exit of the navy headquarters. His gut was churning with anxiety, and he was hopeful that a casual patrol through Hightown’s streets would help to calm his nerves.

He stepped out into the blazing afternoon sun and made his way along the standard patrol route that led to Lowtown, but his mind was preoccupied with the meeting he’d just had. The situation with Meredith made him feel physically ill. Meredith had never had any fondness for pirates, but Cullen couldn’t understand her particular vendetta against Piper. Was it purely because Piper had escaped from jail, and Meredith was trying to salvage the navy’s reputation? Or might there be some other reason for her focus on the wily little elven captain? Piper was hardly the sort of nefarious pirate that Meredith and Cullen so abhorred, after all. She was actually very well-liked among many of the (admittedly less savoury) residents in Lowtown, and stories of some of her more ‘amusing’ feats in Lowtown had even trickled into the gossip circuit in Hightown. Cullen genuinely wasn’t sure that sentencing Piper to the noose would convey the message that Meredith was hoping for. 

A fleeting image of Piper’s slender neck encircled by a thick noose flashed through his mind. He shivered instinctively at the thought, then ran a hand through his hair. For all that he’d scolded himself about not fraternizing with pirates, it seemed that he had somehow struck up an unacceptably affable rapport with Piper. He would be lying if he said his feelings toward Piper were completely impartial… and this was a serious problem. 

Cullen now had direct orders from the Admiral that conflicted with his own sense of what was right. But could he trust his sense of justice when his own judgment was biased?

 _I am not entirely biased,_ he thought. The point he’d made about Fenris was valid. It was wrong to punish a person for merely affiliating with a pirate if that person had committed no crimes – at least none that could be proven. If affiliation was all it took, then Meredith should be targeting Varric just as harshly as Fenris and Piper. 

But Varric was still technically a citizen of Kirkwall. Perhaps this was the difference. Varric still managed multiple businesses in Kirkwall, and he and Piper had never actually admitted to Varric being an official member of Piper’s crew. If Meredith’s anti-fraternization law went through, Varric could technically claim that he had been abducted by Piper and thereby get out of trouble. Perhaps Cullen ought to point that out to them if the worst should come to pass.

Then he stopped and scratched back of his neck. _Why_ was he trying to think of ways to help Piper and her crew? He was a blasted naval commander. He should be reinforcing the law, not thinking ways to help a silver-haired little troublemaker escape it. 

He sighed heavily, then shunted the problem aside for now. He would calm his mind with the familiarity of this patrol, and when his jangling nerves were soothed, he would return to the problem of Piper with a clearer head. 

The routine of his patrol was as calming as Cullen had hoped. Aside from a noble youth drinking rum in public and a few children playing in the fountain, Cullen ran into minimal trouble. But just as Cullen was about to start the final loop of his patrol back to the headquarters, he spotted an unusual sight: a noble lady, alone – and one whom Cullen had never seen alone before. 

He approached her and bowed politely. “Good afternoon, Lady Rynne,” 

She beamed at him. “Oh hello, Commander! What a lovely surprise.” She idly waved the lacy mint-green fan in her delicately gloved hand. “What are you doing on patrol? I was under the impression that this was more of a lieutenant’s job.”

She wasn’t wrong. But he couldn't very well tell her his real reasons for being on patrol. “It is,” he said. “But I took it on myself to follow this route today. See if there are any… deviations that… Er, if any changes to the route are required to keep our citizens safe,” he said clumsily.

“Ah, of course,” Lady Rynne said. “A noble undertaking for a noble commander.”

Her tone was pleasant and unsuspecting, but Cullen awkwardly cleared his throat nonetheless. “I’m surprised to see you on your own,” he remarked. Leandra Hawke doted on her eldest child, and Lady Rynne was always accompanied by at least one handmaiden, as well as a personal bodyguard from the Hawke estate or her burly younger brother Carver, when he wasn’t carrying out his lieutenant duties himself. Seeing the young lady out on the town by herself was very strange indeed.

Lady Rynne made a tiny moue of dismay. “My handmaidens fell ill on some poorly-prepared fish, I’m afraid. And dear Carver stepped into the weapons shop – no place for a lady, you’ll agree. He’ll be back momentarily.”

Cullen frowned slightly. “Would you care for my company until his return?”

She delicately fanned herself. “Oh no, Commander, please! Don’t concern yourself with me. I’m sure I will be fine until Carver’s return. I’ll sit in this shade and enjoy the breeze. It’s such a lovely day, don’t you think?” She took a seat on a nearby carved stone bench beneath a tree and arranged her petticoats around her lap, then smiled up at him. 

Cullen studied her curiously for a moment. _The Belle of Kirkwall,_ they called her, and it wasn’t difficult to see why; Rynne Hawke was one of the most beautiful women in Kirkwall, with her delicate porcelain skin and her long shiny chestnut hair. She was sociable and charming and exceedingly well-mannered: by all rights, a very proper young lady. But there was something about her smile that always made Cullen feel like she was on the verge of making a joke that never quite left her lips. 

He discarded the strange impression. He was probably just imagining things. He bowed slightly once more. “Well, if you’re certain you’re all right on your own, I should return to my desk to file my, er, patrol notes.”

Lady Rynne nodded and smiled. “Of course. I appreciate your concern, Commander. Have a lovely afternoon.” 

“You as well,” he said, and he left her on the bench as he made his way back toward the navy headquarters. As he neared the carved pillars of the tall and decorous government building, his nerves began to vibrate once more, and he forced himself to breathe calmly as he made his way up the steps. 

_One thing at a time,_ he thought to himself. First he would try to determine if there were any other reasons that Meredith might be targeting Piper so distinctively. If he pored carefully through Piper’s criminal record, he might be able to find a way to alleviate the Admiral’s concerns and convince her to be slightly less strict in her sentencing. 

Perhaps in the course of his investigations, he would also figure out why it mattered so much to him that the infuriating, flirtatious Captain Mad Piper not be sentenced to death.

###  RYNNE 

Rynne fanned herself lazily and watched from the corner of her eye until Cullen’s navy-coated back disappeared around the corner.

 _Thank fuck,_ she thought. She flicked her lacy fan shut, then rose to her feet and began to walk away in the opposite direction that Cullen had gone. 

She glanced toward the parasol and kerchief shoppe, then averted her face and sped up slightly to pass it by; Carver was in the shoppe getting her parasol repaired just as she’d cajoled him to do. He would be angry when he discovered she’d snuck away from him again, but Rynne didn’t care. If she had to spend one more minute today being fussed and clucked over like a useless child, she was going to start tearing out her perfectly pinned hair. 

Her lovely handmaidens were at home, playing sick just as Rynne had paid them to do. Free now for the first time in over a month, Rynne was going to take full advantage and do the one thing she’d always wanted to do: she was finally going to venture into the Lowtown market. 

She couldn’t explain why she wanted so badly to go to Lowtown. By all rights, it was a place she should want to avoid; it was dirty and noisy and full of people of questionable cleanliness and manners, and if Carver and her mother were to be believed, it was full of criminals who would sooner tarnish her honour than tell her ‘good day’. 

But Rynne couldn't believe that that’s all there was to the market. It might be noisy and smelly and packed, but it was also vibrant and colourful and full of life. Flowers burst unfettered across the roofs and walls, and there were strange and delicious smells emanating from the many chaotic cooking fires – smells that were savoury and sweet and spicy, and so much more interesting than the cooking smells she was used to at home. The sounds of music often floated out of the market, merry sounds of instruments that Rynne had never heard at the formal dances and dinners in Hightown. And the people – Maker’s balls, the _people…_

There were all kinds of people in Lowtown. Humans, of course, but also dwarves and elves and the occasional qunari, and all of them wearing strange and colourful clothes and adorned with tattoos and jewelry the likes of which Rynne would never see in Hightown. On the cherished occasions when Rynne ran into Varric at the book shoppe, he’d told her about the funny conversations he’d had or the odd people he’d seen in Lowtown, and it only enhanced her wishes to see it for herself. 

Where Hightown was a perfect pastel-coloured canvas of humans with perfect pristine smiles, Lowtown was completely imperfect, like a mad and unstructured jumble of people and things and noises from everywhere in the world – everywhere that Rynne had never been, and probably never would go. 

Rynne was stuck in Hightown society. She was the eldest and only daughter of a controversial family: the Amells had a good reputation among the noble families but the middle-class Hawkes did not, and Leandra’s bold choice to marry below her station was still having its social consequences over two decades later. Rynne’s mother was desperate to marry her off to some high-class pompous twat to wipe away the so-called shame of having married the infamously academic Malcolm Hawke – an irony that made Rynne laugh on the good days, and made her want to scream on the bad ones. 

She sighed internally as she gracefully strolled through the streets of Hightown. At times like this, Rynne really missed having Bethany around. Bethany was the sweet and gentle one, and on the days when Rynne was feeling really hard done-by, Bethany had usually been able to remind her why an arranged marriage would benefit the family – usually by pointing out their other friends who seemed to be happily married to men they hadn’t met until their wedding days. But the scarlet fever pandemic three years ago had taken Bethany away, and Rynne no longer had a confidante when the expectations of her station became too heavy to bear.

And the expectations were heavy indeed. Rynne was twenty-five now – practically an old maid – and her mother was becoming more controlling than ever, forcing her to meet with the parents of eligible young men at least twice a week and to go on heavily escorted dates with those young men just as frequently. Being stared at by bodyguards and handmaidens and family members was hardly conducive to getting to know a possible suitor – not that Rynne wanted to anyway. Every bachelor her mother forced her to meet was either too young, _far_ too old, too bland and boring, or far too prone to eyeing her in the overly-attentive kind of way that made Rynne’s skin crawl with misgivings. 

In short, Rynne felt like some sort of prize cow who was being shown around for the value of the milk she could provide. In contrast, her fantasies about Lowtown were like an escape. She saw the crowded market as the entryway into a land of adventure and strangeness and freedom that she could never have. And she was so desperate for even a tiny taste of the freedom that Lowtown offered that she was willing to risk the punishment that Leandra would inevitably bestow for her misbehaviour. 

She slid her fingers into her elaborately curled hair and rubbed absently at her scalp. Then the first strains of noise and foreign music floated to her ears. 

She smiled, then lifted her skirts slightly and walked more quickly still. She was nearly running now – a very improper thing for a young lady to do – but Rynne didn’t give a shit: she was almost there, almost at the broad stone steps that led down into Lowtown’s lively and fragrant depths. She had limited time now before Carver would realize that she’d gone missing, and she had to make the most of the time she had. 

Within a minute, she was at the top of the steps. She stared gleefully at the market, with its colourful tarps and dancing ladies and all the fucking _people_. Without another second’s hesitation, she lifted her skirts and hurried down the steps. Then, for the first time in her twenty-five years of life, Rynne set foot in Lowtown. 

It was so much louder here, and the smells were much stronger and laced with the pungent scent of unwashed bodies. Wide-eyed with wonder, Rynne began to slip through the crowd as unobtrusively as she could despite her vast stupid skirts. People were swearing and shouting and singing, and as she made her way toward the nearest merchant’s stand, she was rudely jostled in the sort of way that would never happen up in Hightown. 

It was wonderful. Cacophonous and chaotic and absolutely fucking wonderful. When she finally reached the dwarven jewelry merchant’s stand, she couldn’t stop herself from beaming at him. “These are beautiful,” she called out over the noise. 

“Thanks, lady,” he shouted back. He looked stunned for some reason, but Rynne didn’t mind; she was too preoccupied by the glittering jewelry on display. It looked ‘cheap’, as her mother would say: glass crystals set in plain copper and bronze, with no fine gems or metals to be found. But the artistry in the curling metal and the arrangements of the cut glass gems were like nothing Rynne had ever seen. 

She pointed at one piece and looked up at the merchant. “How much for this?”

“Ten silver,” he replied. 

_Ten silver?_ Rynne thought. That seemed quite expensive indeed. She could purchase a moderately fine silk parasol for that price. 

She tilted her head. “What is it made of, if you don’t mind my asking?” 

The merchant tilted his chin up slightly and folded his arms. “Why’re you asking?” 

Rynne widened her eyes and blinked. “Why, because the artistry is astounding, of course. I’m curious about your methods.” Flattery always worked in the shoppes at home; perhaps it would work here as well. 

Luckily for Rynne, her hunch was correct: the merchant relaxed at her words. “Oh. Well.” He scratched his ear. “Five silver, then. Since you asked so nice.” 

Rynne smiled and pulled a tiny coin purse out of the pocket of her skirts. “Wonderful! If you don’t mind wrapping it for me…” She looked up to find the merchant’s wary gaze focused just behind her head. 

She tilted her head in confusion. Then a large and callused hand took hold of her upper arm. “You look lost, missus,” a deep guttural voice grunted. 

Rynne turned toward the voice. It belonged to a large and grubby human man with two equally large and grubby companions.

She ignored the little leap of trepidation in her belly and smiled politely. “Good afternoon, gentlemen. That’s kind of you to be concerned, but I’m just fine.”

The man’s grip tightened on her arm. “I think you’re lost. And I think you need us to help you find your way home.” He pulled her closer. “For a price.”

Rynne recoiled slightly from his rancid breath, then smiled more widely despite her rapidly beating heart. “No thank you, I’m perfectly fine,” she said. “Please, feel free to move on. Don’t let me hold you up.” 

The thug narrowed his eyes. “You dumb or somethin’? Give us your fuckin’ money.”

Rynne sighed musically. “I’m afraid I can’t do that. But I do have to apologize.”

He glared at her. “Apologize for what?”

“For this,” Rynne said. Then, before she could think twice, she crushed the heel of her shoe onto his filthy bare foot. 

The thug yelped in surprise and released her arm, and Rynne spun around as quickly as her skirts allowed and ran – straight into the chest of yet another man. 

Her nose slammed into his sternum. “Fuck,” she blurted. She grabbed her aching nose and stumbled back, then glanced up through her watering eyes at the man she’d just walked into. 

He wasn’t a human, but an elf. In the space of a split second, Rynne realized three things: first, this elf was extremely handsome, with dark tawny skin covered in strange trailing white lines and the most lovely sculpted lips she’d seen outside of an art museum. Second, he looked extremely dangerous, with one hand resting on the handle of his cutlass and a forbidding scowl on his face. The third and most surprising fact was this: Rynne had seen this man before. 

It was the elf she’d made eye contact with a couple of weeks ago, when she’d managed to cajole her usual entourage to come to the threshold of the market with her and watch the goings-on. A rush of combined embarrassment and pleasure cut through her swiftly growing panic as she remembered that fleeting moment: the second that he’d met her gaze and the way his scowl seemed to soften for the briefest instant, and the way she’d shamelessly stared at him as though she wanted to eat him up–

A rush of heat bloomed in her cheeks. _Fuck, fuck, shut the fuck up, Rynne,_ she scolded herself silently. He could be another assailant, for all she knew. Speaking of assailants… 

She spun away from him and toward the humans who had originally approached her, but they were gone. 

She let out a relieved sigh, then tensed and stepped away from the handsome elf. She lowered her hand from her nose and gave him a guarded look. “I’d like to think it’s my menacing demeanour that scared those assholes off, but somehow I think I’ll be disappointed,” she said. “Are you going to try and mug me, too?”

His stern eyebrows leapt high on his forehead, and Rynne winced. “Sorry. Do you – maybe you don’t speak common. Varric mentioned that a lot of the people who dock here don’t. Um…” She gave him a hopeful smile and tried out the only elvhen phrase she knew. “ _Andaran atish–”_

“I speak common,” he snapped, and Rynne shivered involuntarily. Maker’s balls, he had a bloody nice voice. 

And he wasn’t finished using it yet: he continued to berate her in a deep and disdainful tone. “You are fortunate that your coin is all they tried to take. You should not be here.” 

“What do you mean?” she said shrewdly. “You don’t know where I’m from.” She was starting to feel a bit excited. Did he remember having seen her before, as well? 

He scowled more deeply, and Rynne watched with delight as the very tips of his ears began to turn red. “You are obviously from Hightown,” he growled. “You should go back there now, before you cause anyone any further trouble.”

She bit back a smile. He clearly remembered her, but wasn’t willing to admit it. 

She stuck out her hand. “I’m Rynne,” she said. “Rynne Hawke. It’s nice to meet you.” 

He recoiled slightly from her and folded his arms, which naturally only served to draw Rynne’s attention to his hands and arms. The same white lines that curved down his chin and neck also climbed from his wrists all the way up to his shoulders. 

Rynne forced her eyes back to his face: no hardship there, given how gorgeous he was. “All right, I’ll keep my hands to myself,” she said affably. “What’s your name?”

He frowned more deeply still. Then his posture loosened very slightly. “I am Fenris,” he said.

She smiled. “Fenris,” she said. “It’s lovely to meet you.” She turned back to the merchant. “Now, where were we…?”

“Price has gone up, lady,” the merchant said. “Seven silver for the business your antics cost me.”

Rynne froze with her fingers halfway into her coin purse. “Seven? Oh dear. I only have five.” She snapped her coin purse shut and turned away from the merchant’s stand in mock regret. 

“Fine, fine,” the merchant hastily said. “Five silver, all right?”

She paused and widened her eyes. “Are you sure? I don’t want to discount your lovely workmanship–”

“It’s fine, lady,” the merchant grumbled. “The necklace is all yours.” He started wrapping it in a scrap of coarse brown burlap.

Rynne beamed at him. “You’re far too kind,” she said. Then she looked up at Fenris, who was studying her as though she’d grown an extra head. 

She tilted her head. “Is something the matter?”

He stared her for a moment longer, then tucked his hands into his pockets. “That necklace is worth one silver at most,” he said in a quiet voice. “And he did not make it himself. He is fleecing you.”

Rynne gaped at him. “It’s not handmade?”

“Not by him, at any rate,” Fenris said. He glanced quickly at the merchant’s wares. “It is of elven make. It’s the workmanship of the free colonies on the Rialto Bay.”

Rynne’s eyes widened. “All the way from the Rialto Bay? Wow.” She gazed at the merchant’s wares for a moment longer, then held out her hand to the merchant. “May I?”

The merchant paused in the act of wrapping the necklace, then handed it over to her. Rynne reached up and untied her scarlet ribbon choker from around her neck, then held it out to Fenris. “Hold this for me, would you?”

He stared at her again as though she was some kind of strange creature, then gingerly took the ribbon from her hand. 

Rynne unwrapped her new necklace from the scrap of burlap and swiftly clipped it around her throat. She fondly stroked the glass crystals, then smiled at the merchant. “Please give my compliments to the elves of Rialto Bay. And give them four of those silver that I gave to you.”

The merchant gave her a hard stare, then lowered his eyes. “Missus,” he grunted. 

Rynne smiled more broadly, then looked up at Fenris. “Well, it’s clear that I don’t know what I’m doing here,” she said cheerfully. “Would you care to escort me around the market? I would be happy for the company of such a handsome elf.”

Fenris’s face twisted in an odd way: almost as though he tried to scowl and smirk at the same time. Then his expression returned to its default frown. “I can’t,” he said bluntly. “I am meeting someone.”

Rynne pouted to hide a legitimate pang of disappointment. “Meeting someone, you say?” She tilted her head and batted her eyelashes at him. “A _special_ someone?”

He scowled. “That’s none of your business.” 

She sighed. “Fair enough. Well then, now I have to find out as much about you as I can before your companion arrives. Are you a sailor?”

His scowl deepened, and he hunched his shoulders defensively. “Why do you want to know?”

“Curiosity, of course!” Rynne said. “This is obviously my first time here. Who knows if I’ll ever come back?”

“You are looking to collect stories to tell your friends back in Hightown, then?” Fenris replied. “Tales of the pathetic and the poor, so you can congratulate yourselves for avoiding such an ignominious fate?”

It was Rynne’s turn to recoil from his acidic tone. “What? No, not at all,” she said blankly. “I… honestly, I’d rather stay here than go back to Hightown. Despite the big smelly thugs and the fleecing merchants. I’ve never been on a ship before.” She glanced wistfully toward the port and the many merchant ships that were docked there, then looked up at Fenris once more. “What’s it like? Being on a ship?” She raised one eyebrow at him. “I’m assuming again that you’re a sailor, what with the gear and the bare feet.”

He studied her carefully for a moment longer, and Rynne forced herself to be patient as she waited for his response. Then he sighed and glanced toward the dock. 

“It can be difficult,” he told her. “Storms can be near-fatal. Running out of fresh water is a constant concern. But it is a free life. That counts for more than comfort.”

Rynne stared at his stern and handsome profile with a growing lump in her throat. She swallowed hard, then looked off toward the horizon. “Well, shit,” she said lamely. 

Fenris snorted. 

Rynne looked up at him once more: he was smirking, the first evidence of amusement she’d yet seen on his face. It was enough to make her heart flutter. 

She smiled at him. “What’s so funny?”

He shook his head and didn’t reply. Then a bright, cheerful female voice approached them. 

“Fen! There you are!” A short, pretty elf with a gorgeous mass of silver hair bounced over and tapped Fenris’s arm. “I looked for you at the gunsmith's shoppe, I thought you said–”

Rynne’s jaw dropped. “You’re Mad Piper,” she gasped. “The one who escaped from jail!” She pressed a hand to her chest in excitement. “Oh Maker, I’ve heard so many stories about you. It’s lovely to meet you.”

The silver-haired elf beamed at her, then bowed deeply with a flourish. “I am Mad Piper, at your service, m’lady.” She straightened and eyed Rynne’s impractical dress with interest. “Lady, indeed. You’re a ways from home, aren’t you, love?”

“That is what I said,” Fenris grunted. He shot Rynne a pointed look as he spoke to Piper. “She insisted on staying after picking a fight with three human thugs.” He folded his arms. “An idiotic move in the extreme.”

Rynne lowered her eyes demurely. “Oh, Fenris, you certainly know how to flatter a lady.”

Fenris huffed. Piper’s keen gaze darted between Rynne and Fenris, and to Rynne’s surprise, Piper slung an arm around her neck. “Come on, m’lady, Fenris and I will give you a proper introduction to the market,” she said. She tilted her head. “What’s your name, anyway?”

“I’m Rynne,” she said. “Rynne Hawke.” 

“Rynne Hawke! Fantastic name,” Piper enthused. “Almost a pirate-y name, actually.” She began to pull Rynne further into the market, and Rynne was delighted to follow her.

“It’s not as impressive as Mad Piper,” she replied. “So tell me, are the stories true?”

“Completely,” Piper said.

“Exaggerated,” Fenris drawled at the same moment. 

Piper pulled her arm from around Rynne’s neck and punched Fenris lightly in the arm. “Excuse you! Don’t you listen to Varric? He says that every story is based on something true.” She turned to Rynne with a charming smile. “In my case, I guarantee that a solid eighty percent of what you’ve heard is true.”

“I heard you once knocked out a whole tavern of Carta thugs single-handedly,” Rynne said eagerly.

Piper’s grin became a grimace. “Well. I took out… maybe eighty percent on my own.” Fenris cleared his throat, and Piper dissolved into laughter. “Fine, maybe forty percent. I have a very loyal crew.” She winked at Fenris, who grimaced in response.

Rynne watched their playful back-and-forth with a slight ache in her chest. Despite Fenris’s inscrutable manner, he and Piper were obviously comfortable in each other’s presence. Rynne couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt that way around anyone aside from her late sister. 

She gazed between Piper and Fenris little wistfully. “How long have you two been together?” she asked.

Piper jauntily tucked her thumbs into her belt. “Oh, Fen’s been with me for–”

“We are not together,” Fenris interrupted. 

Piper stopped and looked at him in confusion, then burst into laughter. “Oh! Oh _fenedhis,_ you thought…? Nah, don’t be stupid.” She elbowed Rynne playfully. “Fen is like my brother. He’s been with my crew for… what, over a year now?” 

Fenris nodded confirmation and shot Rynne a very quick glance, and her heart did a little flip in her chest. “Interesting,” she said. 

Fenris pursed his lips and didn’t meet her eye, but the tips of his ears were turning very slightly pink again. Rynne smiled to herself and turned to Piper, who was grinning knowingly at her. 

Rynne grinned back; she couldn’t help it. It somehow felt like she’d known Piper for ages even though they’d just met. “Tell me more about your life,” she said enthusiastically. “Where have you gone in the past year?”

Piper laughed again and ran her hands through her wild hair. “Not enough places, if you ask me,” she said. “We spent most of our time near Rialto Bay and along the coast of Rivain. There are a lot of free colonies there, and we helped them to resupply. It was a pretty dry season.” She snapped her fingers and looked at Fenris. “There was that one slaver ship though, the random one off the coast of Ferelden–” 

“The Tevinter ship,” Fenris put in. 

“Right. We sunk them good,” Piper said with relish. “But not before stealing all their supplies and their coin.”

“And freeing their slaves, of course,” Fenris drawled. 

“Of course,” Piper chirped. “We should go back sometime and see how they’re settling in.” 

Fenris nodded, and Rynne simply stared at them. All this travelling they did, freeing slaves and helping colonies to resupply… Piper and Fenris barely sounded like criminals at all. It sounded like they just did what they wanted, and what they wanted to do seemed to benefit a lot of people. But if they were pirates, clearly they were engaged in _some_ kind of criminal activity…?

Rynne chewed the inside of her cheek as she tried to think of a tactful way to ask about it. Finally she decided to just blurt it out; she was sure that Piper wouldn’t mind. 

Before she could ask, however, a loud and angry male voice called her name. “Lady Rynne!” 

Rynne winced. _Cullen,_ she thought with a jolt of dread. But to her surprise, Piper perked up. 

She fluffed her hands through her hair and turned to Fenris. “How do I look?”

Fenris rolled his eyes. “The same as you always do,” he deadpanned. 

“Not terrible, then,” Piper said cheerfully. “Excellent.” She shifted her weight coquettishly to one hip as Cullen strode toward them. “Golden Boy,” she purred in a sultry voice. “Fancy seeing you here.”

Rynne watched in fascination as Cullen’s angry expression melted into a look of worry. “Piper! What are you…” He trailed off and frowned at Rynne. “Wait. Do you two know each other?”

Rynne was equally confused – no, not confused. _Intrigued._ She looked at Piper and gestured at Cullen. “You know him?” she asked slyly. 

Piper grinned at her salacious tone and took a slinky step closer to Cullen. “Not yet,” she said. “Someday though, if I’m lucky.”

Fenris made a strange choking noise. Rynne, meanwhile, couldn’t decide whether to be more entertained by Piper’s shameless flirtation, or concerned by the way Cullen’s face was turning uncharacteristically pale. 

Piper, too, seemed to be concerned; she dropped the flirtatious act and frowned. “Cullen, is something wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghoul.”

He stared worriedly at her for a moment, then straightened and seemed to collect himself. He turned to Rynne with a stern expression. “Your brother reported that you’d gone missing. There is a search party looking for you.” His scowl deepened. “You told me you were waiting for him.”

Rynne sighed. _Looks like the fantasy is over,_ she thought sadly. _And it was going so well._ She regretfully looked up at Fenris’s handsome face, then sighed. 

“My apologies, Commander,” she said. She gave Cullen an innocent wide-eyed look. “I was hungry, you see, and the kebabs smelled so good… I’m very sorry that I caused you trouble.” 

From the corner of her eye, she saw Fenris’s eyebrows rising. Cullen, on the other hand, lifted a forgiving hand, just as Rynne had known he would. “It’s all right, Lady Rynne,” he said. “I will escort you home.” He chewed his lip in silence for a moment, then took a step closer to Piper. 

He lowered his voice, but Rynne could still clearly hear him. “By the order of Admiral Meredith Stannard, you are to be taken into custody and hanged by the neck until dead,” he said. 

Rynne clapped a hand over her mouth in horror, and Fenris restlessly shifted his weight. Piper, meanwhile, scoffed and folded her arms. “Are you fucking kidding?” she demanded. “For what?” 

But Cullen shook his head slightly. “I must escort Lady Rynne home. It is my duty to ensure her safety as a citizen of Kirkwall,” he said carefully. “I will return to arrest you once this duty is done.” 

Rynne immediately cottoned on. She didn’t know why Cullen was helping Piper, but she wasn’t going to question it. “Commander, if you wouldn’t mind, I do need to run some errands before returning home.” She placed one delicate hand on his forearm and batted her eyelashes. “Would you be so kind as to assist me?” 

He relaxed slightly and nodded. “Yes, Lady Rynne, of course.” He looked at Piper once more. “I will be back to take you in,” he said in a loaded tone.

Piper gazed at him for a long moment. Then a slow smile lit her face. “Such a sweet man,” she murmured. “This isn’t the last you’ve seen of me, all right? I’m not quite done with you yet.” 

Cullen shook his head and lowered his voice even further. “Kirkwall is no longer safe for you, Piper.” He glanced at Fenris. “For any of you.” He gently took Rynne by the arm and stepped away. “This is goodbye.”

Piper grinned, then darted forward and kissed his cheek. To Rynne’s vast amusement, his face instantly turned bright red. 

Piper grinned at him. “Not for goodbye. For luck,” she said. She winked at Rynne, then slapped Fenris’s shoulder and darted away. 

Fenris shot Rynne a quick frown – just quick enough for Rynne to smile at him in return – then he, too, disappeared into the crowd. 

Rynne sighed, then turned to Cullen, whose cheeks were still red. She forced herself not to laugh at how flustered he looked. “All right, my dear Commander,” she said. “Would you care to tell me what in the Maker’s name is going on?”

Cullen rubbed his stubbled chin, then ushered Rynne forward with a gentle hand at her back. “Absolutely not. It is official navy business,” he said sternly. “You, on the other hand, had better tell me what _you_ were doing here.” He frowned at her as they neared the stairs back to Hightown, but Rynne could see the worry in his face. “Were you… you were not… _conspiring_ –?”

Rynne tutted delicately. “Of course not. I swear to you, I just met them today.” She raised her chin slightly defiantly. “Besides, _they_ weren’t the ones to be worried about in that market. That Fenris fellow rescued me from some rather unsavoury gentlemen, in fact.” She gave Cullen an appraising look as they returned to the relative quiet of Hightown. “He may be a pirate, but he’s not a bad man.”

Cullen sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I am… not unaware of that, Lady Rynne,” he said quietly. 

Rynne studied his profile with a pang of sympathy. He looked troubled, and it was quite obvious to Rynne that his actions in Lowtown would likely not be approved by his commanding officers. 

Perhaps Rynne wasn’t the only resident of Hightown who was feeling rather… well, trapped.

They walked in silence for a time through the clean paved streets of Hightown. Then Rynne quietly addressed him. “I don’t really have any errands to run, you know.”

Cullen sighed. “Why am I not surprised?”

He sounded so long-suffering that Rynne almost laughed. But she bit her lip instead and stayed quiet. There was a good reason he’d accepted her feeble excuse, after all, and that reason was a pretty little captain with a mass of silver hair.

She tilted her head coyly. “Come to think of it, I do have to visit the book shoppe after all. Would you be so kind as to accompany me?”

The book shoppe was on the opposite end of Hightown from the navy headquarters. Cullen glanced at her, and Rynne could swear she saw a hint of gratefulness in his expression before he bowed his head. “Of course, Lady Rynne. For your own safety, of course.”

Rynne smiled. “Thank you, Commander,” she said. “I could never carry all that heavy parchment on my own.”

Cullen narrowed his eyes for a moment, but Rynne only blinked innocently, and he finally nodded and gestured for her to lead the way. 

She and Cullen made boring polite conversation about their families as they slowly walked to the book shoppe. As they neared the cozy storefront, Rynne idly reached up to touch her scarlet ribbon choker. 

Her fingers found the glass crystals of her new necklace instead. Rynne widened her eyes, then hastily began removing the necklace. If her mother saw it, she would throw an absolute fit. But where had Rynne put her choker?

Suddenly she remembered. She’d given it to Fenris to hold while she put the necklace on.

A flush of heat bloomed in her belly at the thought of Fenris. Maker’s fucking mercy, he was truly gorgeous. And mysterious, with that whole quiet-and-brooding thing and the marks on his chin and neck and arms. Rynne still wasn’t sure what those marks were; they didn’t quite look like tattoos, but what else could they be? 

She sighed a little wistfully. _I suppose I’ll never know, if Piper and her crew will be leaving Kirkwall for good,_ she thought. Piper made it sound like she’d evade the threat somehow, but even if the little pirate did sneak her way back into Kirkwall, it was unlikely that Rynne would be able to sneak back to Lowtown again. She was unlikely to ever see Piper – or Fenris – again. 

She forced a smile onto her face as she and Cullen stepped into the book shoppe. _I hope Fenris keeps my choker,_ she thought.

At least a part of Rynne would get to see the world that way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here be[ yer resident artist, Mad Schoute, on Tumblr.](http://schoute.tumblr.com/)
> 
> And here ye bilgerats can find [yer resident writer on Tumblr.](https://pikapeppa.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Drink up, me hearties, yo ho. xoxoxo


	3. Risks

###  PIPER 

Piper hummed softly to herself as she manned the helm. The skies were clear with only the odd wispy cloud in sight; perfect sailing conditions, to be sure. But Dorian had confirmed that a storm was moving in from the west, and that it would strike shortly after they were due to drop anchor near Hercinia this evening.

Piper was glad. Sunny weather was perfect for sailing, but there was nothing more thrilling than fighting through the crashing waves of a good storm. The Lady Luck was a hearty bitch, and Piper had been with this ship for long enough to know what storms she could handle. She’d been the captain for about three years now, and she’d been crew on this ship for some ten-odd years prior to that. When Piper set foot on the Lady Luck, it was like she was stepping onto another half of herself: the feel of these planks through the soles of her bare feet was just as familiar as the pulse of her own beating heart, and when Piper guided the ship toward a storm, the frothing waves slamming against the prow was just as exhilarating as the stinging lash of rain on her own skin. 

Storms were exciting. Coming through a storm was a confirmation of life. Piper sometimes purposely steered toward a good storm for the sheer thrill of making it through the threat alive. The crew might think her mad for it, but all the better: she had a reputation to uphold, after all, and sailing them safely through the perfect storm was a great way to maintain it. 

Tonight, though, it seemed that they’d be missing the storm. But no matter; Piper would still enjoy watching the rain as she settled into her cabin for the night. If she couldn’t sail into the heart of the storm, at least she could savour the scintillating fall of rain on her windows while snuggling into the multitude of cozy woven throws that littered her bed.

For now, however, the sun was hot on her shoulders and her head. With the ease of long practice, she deftly twisted her hair into a messy braid, then wrapped her fingers lovingly around the handles of the helm once more. 

Varric wandered over to her with his thumbs hooked into his belt. “Captain,” he greeted. “Ready to hand over the helm?”

“Soon,” she said. She smiled at him. “The men are ready to port in Hercinia, I take it?”

“Raring to go,” Varric confirmed. “I divided the weekly loot among them, and it’s burning a hole in their pockets.” 

She chuckled. “Of course it is.” She looked down at the deck as she carefully adjusted their course. Fenris was leading a training session in hand-to-hand combat for the unoccupied crew. The crew was particularly enthusiastic in their training today, as was typical for the day before they came into port; the training focused their extra energy, and by the time they hit dry land, they’d be more than ready to enjoy themselves in town. 

Anders emerged from belowdecks and made his way past the enthusiastically training crew and up toward the helm, and Piper watched in amusement as he and Fenris exchanged their usual dirty looks. 

“Doctor,” she said cheerfully as he approached. “What can I do for you?” 

“Captain,” he said with a polite nod. “I was actually looking for Varric.” He turned to Varric hopefully. “Can you fetch more gin in town? As an antiseptic,” he clarified hastily at Piper’s mischievous grin. “I want to try something a little different. Usually I use elfroot, but it’s expensive. I think I should save it for severe cases of infection. If gin can serve just as well for minor wounds...”

Varric scratched his chin. “I can try. Hercinia’s not really the place for getting a deal on gin, though.”

“You know what town _is_ a good place for getting gin?” Piper said brightly.

Varric smiled and shook his head, and Anders folded his arms. “Let me guess,” he said dryly. “Kirkwall?”

Piper pointed at him. “You’ve got it. Such a smart man, you are. I’m glad you’re the doctor on my ship.” 

“Piper,” Varric said patiently, “going back to Kirkwall is a bad idea. They–”

“Yeah, yeah, you’ve told me a hundred times, I’m wanted and they’re going to try and hang me, so on and so forth,” she said loftily. “But if Anders says he needs gin to heal up my crew, well…” She shrugged innocently. “Who am I to say no to the good doctor?”

“You’re the captain,” Varric said flatly. “It’s your prerogative to say no.”

“Or to say yes,” Piper said slyly, and Varric rolled his eyes. 

Anders coughed into his hand, but Piper could see his smirk. “Why don’t you just let me know once you’ve decided…” 

“Decided what?” Fenris said as he came up the stairs to join them on the helm. He wiped his sweaty forehead on his arm and frowned at Anders.

Anders pursed his lips. “Whether the Captain wants to try and purchase gin in Hercinia, or buy it in Kirkwall.”

“Kirkwall?” Fenris said sharply. “No.”

Piper raised her chin. “Fenris, we’ve talked about this,” she said warningly.

“Yes, we have,” he said. “It is a bad idea. There is a price on your head in Kirkwall. Is it worth risking your life for the sake of witty banter with that blasted Commander?”

Piper grinned at him. “Ah, so you admit my banter is witty.”

“Marginally so,” Fenris drawled. He raised an eyebrow. “I advise against it. Disregard what the _doctor_ here might say.” He shot Anders another dirty look as he headed back down to the main deck.

Anders glared at his departing back, then turned to Piper once more. “You’re the captain,” he said insistently. “It’s up to you.” He gave her a half-bow, then turned away. “Now I’ve got to go feed Ser Pounce-A-Lot. The cargo bay has been low on mice recently.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Piper yelled after him. She shook her head wryly. “There’s no pleasing them, is there?” she said to Varric. “First it’s ‘oh Captain, there are too many mice,’ then it’s ‘oh Captain, my kitty is getting so skinny because there aren’t enough mice’...” 

“I’m pretty sure Blondie is the only one complaining about a lack of mice,” Varric said. “But seriously, Piper, are you really thinking about going back to Kirkwall? It hasn’t even been a full month since we were last there. I doubt the hype about you has died down just yet.”

Piper wrinkled her nose, then sighed. “I know, I know. I’m mostly joking. I suppose I can go a while longer without seeing the Golden Boy.” She kept her tone casual and light to hide the little pang she felt at the thought of Cullen. 

He’s been so earnest the last time they’d met, and it still took Piper by surprise when she thought of how he’d allowed her to escape. Sure, she and Cullen were friendly, and he was more indulgent with her than with other pirates who caused trouble in Kirkwall – more indulgent than he should be, probably, if Piper was completely truthful. But she honestly hadn’t suspected that he would be so concerned about her welfare that he’d defy direct orders to let her get away. 

It hadn’t really occurred to her that Cullen might genuinely _care_ about her. 

An inconvenient wistful feeling made her throat feel tight. She turned the helm a few degrees to the east, then stepped back and waved graciously to the helm. “All right, I’d say my shift is up. Ser Quartermaster, the Lady Luck is yours.” 

“You got it,” Varric said. 

Piper strolled toward the deck and sat on a bench, then crossed her legs and started idly braiding a lock of hair as she observed her crew. The Lady Luck was home to forty-five sailors, a mixed bag of men and women and elves and humans and dwarves. A handful of them were longtime crew who had been on the Lady Luck since Deshanna was the captain: grizzled older sailors who’d known Piper since she was a skinny street thief that Deshanna had saved from hanging. Most of the others, including Fenris, were former slaves from the Tevinter ships that were Piper’s favoured prey. Then there were her handful of crew who’d joined the ship for their own various reasons: Anders, Dorian, Varric and Cole among them – though Cole’s reasons for joining the Lady Luck were still something of a mystery to Piper. She couldn’t really remember when Cole had joined them; the more she thought about it, the harder it seemed to be for her to recall where they’d even picked him up. But he was a good little aide to Dorian, and that was what mattered.

At that moment, Cole called down to her from the crow’s nest. “Captain Lavellan,” he said. “There’s a ship.”

She rose to her feet. “Where?” she called back. 

He pointed northeast. Piper grasped the rigging and hopped up onto the taffrail, then peered in the direction he’d indicated. 

Sure enough, a ship was just visible about two nautical miles away. It was hard to say for sure from this distance, but based on the size and width of the ship, it looked to be Tevinter. 

Piper looked over her shoulder at the crew. “Hey,” she barked. “Look sharp, everyone. Possible raid coming up.”

They saluted her and split off to find their weapons. Fenris deftly stepped onto the taffrail beside her, then peered over her head. “It is a Tevinter vessel,” he confirmed. 

Piper nodded. “It’s what, maybe ten minutes out?”

“Yes,” Fenris said brusquely. He jumped back down to the deck and palmed the handle of his sabre. “We will be ready.”

“Always,” Piper said seriously. She stepped down from the taffrail, then strode back toward the stern and slipped through the door to the captain’s quarters. 

Dorian was sitting at the table in her quarters poring over a number of maps. “You know, Captain, you should see if the next ship you loot has a better telescope,” he said.

“Why?” Piper said distractedly. “What’s wrong with ours?” She strode over to her arms chest and opened the lid. 

“Oh, nothing in particular,” Dorian said lazily as he continued to peruse the maps. “But bigger is always better, don’t you think? Besides, I’ve always wanted a nice gilded one to match my rings.” 

“Well, you might be in luck,” Piper said. “We’re about to raid a Tevinter ship in about ten minutes.” She strapped her favourite Orlesian épée around her hips and a fine Rivaini dagger to her ankle, then glanced at Dorian over her shoulder. “I hope you don’t mind a gilded telescope from home sweet home.”

Dorian huffed in amusement and didn’t bother to look up from the table. “That would be perfect, in fact,” he said. “Say what you will about my dear old motherland, but our spyglasses are second to none.”

Piper snorted. She tucked a pistol into the back of her belt, then hauled on her boots. “All right, wish me luck,” she said. 

“You don’t need luck,” he told her as she passed him by. “You make your own, remember?”

She laughed. “Damned right I do.” She shot him a quick wink, then returned to the deck.

The crew were gathered there and armed to the teeth. Fenris strode toward her with his face creased in a scowl. “It is definitely a slaver ship. Straight from Minrathous, from the sails,” he said.

“Good,” Piper said fiercely. She shielded her eyes and looked up at the crow’s nest. “How far out are they, Cole?” she yelled. 

“Less than a mile,” he called back. “Even less now. And even less now…”

Piper nodded, then looked at her assembled crew. “You all know the drill,” she shouted. “Take everything, and leave none alive except the slaves. I want this done in less than an hour. Got it?”

There was a loud chorus of ‘aye Captain’s. Piper unsheathed her épée, then held it high. “You’re the demons of the sea! Let the whites of your eyes be the last thing they see before the depths take them!”

The crew roared their approval, and their combative shouts thrummed through Piper’s blood, setting her heart to thrumming in anticipation of the fight. She traipsed down the stairs to join Fenris at the taffrail. “Ready?” she asked. 

He gave her a brisk unsmiling nod. His eyes were on the Tevinter ship, which was drawing closer by the second. The rest of the crew crowded close as the enemy ship drew closer, and Piper shot them a feral grin.

“Let them hear you,” she yelled. All at once, the crew of the Lady Luck began to howl at the Tevinter ship. 

The bellowing taunts and threats of her crew rang in her ears. She relished in the sound of it and the terror in the faces of her foes, then took a deep breath and joined in with their shouts, flinging vitriol and insults as they drew alongside the Tevinter ship. Only Fenris was silent and still as he stood beside her with his hand on the hilt of his sabre.

Piper gestured sharply with her sword. “Go!” she roared. 

The swiftest of her crew swung across the gap from the Lady Luck to the Tevinter ship and began to strike down the slavers. More of Piper’s men flung grappling hooks across the gap to shimmy across while the Tevinters were distracted, and others still began a stealthy approach in smaller dinghies, with one such dinghy heading straight to the keel to sabotage the rudder. A handful of Piper’s archers were perched up high in the masts, and they carefully rained arrows on the slaver crew, further enhancing their panic. 

Piper and Fenris exchanged a quick glance, then swung across to the slaver ship and landed lightly on their feet. Without speaking, they fell into a swift and brutal routine: Fenris downed his foes with his heavy sabre and daggers while Piper focused her efforts with swift and vicious thrusts of her Orlesian épée, and all the while they stayed back-to-back to avoid being flanked. The slavers were disorganized and panicked, clearly not having anticipated the viciousness of this attack, and it wasn’t long before Piper’s hands were painted with blood. 

She booted an approaching sailor in the chest, then lunged at him with her sword and stabbed him before he hit the deck. She briskly shoved a stray lock of hair from her face and looked around the deck; none of her men seemed overwhelmed, and the vast majority of the corpses on the deck were Tevinter. 

She turned to Fenris, who met her eye and gave her a sharp nod. Together, they darted toward the bow and slipped through the door that would lead to the crew quarters and eventually to the cargo bay. 

The crew quarters were largely empty, the crew being occupied fending off Piper’s men up on the deck. But as Piper and Fenris moved through the quarters, she heard a muffled whimper, followed by a scuffle and a slap. 

She narrowed her eyes and quietly drew her dagger. “Come out, come out,” she crooned. “If you show yourself, I promise to make it quick and easy.”

Fenris growled softly, and Piper held up a placating hand as she peered around in the crew’s quarters. The light down here was low, but Piper’s elven eyes swiftly picked up a large shadow moving just off to the left. 

She glanced at Fenris; from the sneer on his face, he’d spotted the movement too. They continued to move stealthily through the crew’s quarters as though they hadn’t spotted anything, with Fenris moving off toward the right-hand wall while Piper remained along the center of the space. 

Then a human man rose to his full height and planted himself in front of Piper. His flintlock was aimed at Piper’s face, and his other hand was gripping the arm of a half-dressed and terrified-looking elven girl who looked at least five years younger than Piper. 

“Stop right there,” he barked. “I’ll blast a hole in your face the size of my fist.” 

Piper raised her eyebrows and took a step closer. “Oh. So a very tiny hole, then?” 

He scowled. “Wh– what?”

Piper tilted her head and tapped her chin mockingly. “Oh sorry, you said ‘fist’. I thought I heard ‘cock’.”

Piper’s Tevinter challenger snarled. “You fucking bi–”

Fenris melted out of the shadows behind him and kicked him in the backs of the knees. He dropped his flintlock with a grunt of shock, and the elven girl screamed, and in the blink of an eye, Piper was clutching a handful of the man’s greasy hair and hauling his head back. 

She sneered at his gobsmacked expression and delicately laid the edge of her dagger along the left side of his throat, just beneath the angle of his jaw. “Any last words?” she asked. 

He gasped for breath. “Fu–”

“Never mind. I don’t give a shit,” Piper said. With a vicious, firm slash of her dagger, she laid his throat open. 

His eyes flew wide, and his fingers scrabbled instinctively at his neck, but it was too late; blood was pouring from the wound like floodwater from an overflowing barrel. He tried to gasp for breath, but the blood was leaking into his windpipe, and Piper couldn’t help but derive some sense of satisfaction from the gurgling sounds of his failing breath. 

When his body started going limp, she released his hair and watched impassively as he slumped to the floor. She met Fenris’s eyes, and for the first time since they’d set foot on the ship, he spoke. 

“Good,” he said. 

Piper nodded in agreement. She crouched beside the elven girl, who was cowering on the floor and covering her mouth to stifle her sobs. 

“Hey,” Piper whispered. “You’re all right now. You’re safe.” 

The girl sobbed even harder. Piper solicitously rearranged the girl’s torn and dirty shirt to cover her bruised skin, then looked up at Fenris and waved for him to come closer. “Fen, can you take her–” 

“ _Na!_ ” the girl squeaked. She started babbling in Tevene, and her bony fingers dug into Piper’s wrist as she cowered away from Fenris. 

Fenris’s lips were pressed together in a hard, narrow line. “She doesn’t want to go anywhere with me,” he said flatly. He gestured brusquely at his arms. 

“Right, right,” Piper said hastily. Tevinter captives were always afraid of Fenris’s tattoos, for some reason that Piper wasn’t fully clear on.

She awkwardly tugged her braid, then smiled at the elven girl as kindly as she could. “Can you ask her how many other prisoners are on this ship? And tell her we’re going to get them to safety.”

Fenris spoke briskly to the elven girl, who answered him in a tremulous voice. He looked at Piper. “There are approximately fifty captives in the hold,” he said. “They had more, but many died during the trip.”

His voice was as hard as his eyes. Piper nodded seriously. “Fetch Varric and a few of the others to help the captives. Then we can go and start looting…”

She trailed off as the elven girl continued to speak to Fenris in an urgent tone. His frown deepened as the girl spoke, and he looked at Piper once more. “She says the ship is carrying blood lyrium. She heard one of the sailors say it was slated for a contact in Darktown.”

Piper’s eyebrows rose. “Blood lyrium for Kirkwall, huh? Interesting. That’s the third time in what, eight months or so?” 

Fenris nodded. He looked furious, and Piper couldn’t blame him. The potent drug was supposedly named for its blood-red colour, there was a darker reason underlying the name; the mining of raw lyrium was extremely dangerous and almost exclusively conducted by slaves, resulting in the deaths of dozens of slaves per month in the Tevinter mines. 

It was Fenris who had told Piper all of this. He used to work at a blood lyrium mine, back before he’d left Tevinter. 

She nibbled the inside of her cheek. “Okay. We’ll make sure it goes down with the rest of the ship. Let’s get the captives moving back to the Lady Luck.”

Fenris nodded and strode away to fetch Varric and a few other crewmates, and Piper sat beside the elven girl to wait for their return. The girl looked calmer now that Fenris was gone, and even offered Piper a tentative smile. 

Piper smiled back at her, then nodded her head in the direction that Fenris had gone. “He’s all right, you know,” she said, even though the girl couldn’t understand her. “He’s, um…” She mentally sorted through her limited Tevene vocabulary. “ _Amicus_ ,” she finally said. “He’s a friend. He can even be friendly sometimes, I swear.”

The girl shook her head at the word _amicus_. “ _Vigilate. Proditor,_ ” she said.

Piper pulled a face and shrugged. “Sorry, I don’t know what those words mean. But I promise his bark is worse than his bite.” She tapped her chin. “Unless you’re a slaver. Or trying to kill him. Or trying to kill anyone else on the crew.” 

The elven girl stared at her in confusion, and Piper smirked and patted her hand. “Ah, never mind. All’s well that ends well, right?”

“Hey, Piper.” Varric came down the stairs with three crew members in his wake. “We’ll take over from here. You and Fenris can go loot with the others.”

“Ah, my favourite. Grabbing the booty,” Piper said. She wiggled her eyebrows and snickered as Varric shook his head in mock dismay. She squeezed the elven girl’s hand one more time before heading back to the upper decks. 

Fenris and a few more crew were prowling among the corpses and collecting their weapons, then tossing them into a nearby empty crate. “High quality arms,” Fenris told her as she approached. “Typical of a Tevinter ship.” He inspected a gilded dagger impassively, then tossed it into the crate along with the others. 

“Keep an eye out for a telescope,” she told him. “Dorian made a special request.”

Fenris grunted. “Of course he did.” 

Piper smirked at him as she began helping with the weapons collection. Once the weapons were done, she and Fenris headed toward the captain’s quarters to search for valuables. 

“So,” she said as they began raiding the opulently decorated cabin. “Since this the third time we’ve seen blood lyrium going to Kirkwall, we should probably head back and notify the Navy, don’t you think?”

“Why?” Fenris said flatly. 

“Professional courtesy,” Piper said casually. “To get a leg up on those Tevinter scum. You know, the usual stuff.” She opened a velvet-lined chest beside the captain’s bed, then smiled. “Ah! Gilded telescope. Perfect.”

Fenris glanced at her with a long-suffering expression. “We owe the Navy no professional courtesy. We are not professionals.”

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I’d call myself a professional,” Piper said. “Professional slave-killer, professional booty-collector…” She gave Fenris an expectant smile.

As always, he didn’t disappoint. He rolled his eyes and snorted, and Piper cackled as she continued to snoop through the now-deceased captain’s belongings. 

“Piper, stop hiding behind excuses,” Fenris scolded. “If it’s your wish to risk your neck to see Cullen again, then be up-front about it.” He shrugged casually and began scooping some silver coins into a velvet pouch. “I have no problem with Varric taking over the captain’s role. We would likely have smoother sailing without you.”

Piper gasped in mock offense. “Wow, Fen. That cuts deep.”

“It was meant to,” Fenris retorted. “Perhaps I hoped to shock some sense into you.”

“Oh please,” Piper scoffed. “Nothing shocks me, and certainly not into sense.” She picked up the telescope case and a sack of jewelry she’d found under the mattress. “I’ve decided our plans. Hercinia for the night, then Rialto Bay for those of the captives who want to go. Then we’re going back to Kirkwall, whether you like it or not.”

“I don’t,” Fenris informed her as he followed her out to the deck. “Just to be completely clear.”

“Good to know,” she said cheerfully. 

“I shall stay on the ship,” he threatened. 

“Good,” Piper said. “I’ll tell that lovely Lady Rynne that you said hello, then, if I see her.”

He didn’t reply, and Piper glanced at him from the corner of her eye. The tips of his ears were turning red. 

Piper bit back a smirk. “Or you could come with me to Hightown and say hello yourself.”

Fenris looked at her sharply. “You would go to Hightown directly? You would really be that foolish?”

She widened her eyes innocently at him. “How else am I supposed to find Cullen to tell him about the lyrium?”

Fenris stared at her. “ _Piper._ ”

She laughed and skipped away from him. She placed the telescope and jewelry into one of the crates with the rest of the loot, then waved to her nearby people. “All right, boys and girls, let’s get this loaded up!” she yelled. 

Then she turned back to Fenris. “Come on, Fen. What’s the point of life if you don’t take a little risk now and then?”

“I have taken enough risks,” he snapped. 

“None that you chose for yourself,” she retorted.

He scowled at her, and she grimaced and shrugged. “Just a thought,” she said. Then she slipped over the taffrail and slid down a rope to the nearest dinghy. 

Once she was back on the Lady Luck, she strolled into her quarters. Dorian was still there, poring over a book and muttering to himself about undercurrents in the Waking Sea. 

“How did it go?” he said vaguely.

She sat on her bed and hauled off her boots, then wiggled her toes in relief. “Great,” she said. “Cut some throats, stole some good stuff. The others will scupper the ship as soon as the captives are settled here.”

“Mm, that’s good,” Dorian murmured. He turned a page of his book. “I don’t suppose you found me a telescope?”

“I did, in fact,” Piper said. 

He finally looked up from his book. “You did?” 

She walked over to him and flicked his gold-adorned ear. “Don’t ever say I do nothing for you, you brat.” She turned to her little liquor cabinet and pulled out a half-empty bottle of rum.

“Well well, I’ll have to demand luxury goods more often if you indulge me so,” Dorian said happily. “Long live Captain Mad Piper. May you always bring me fancy gifts from every ship you sink.”

Piper took a swig from the bottle, then grinned at him as she handed it over. All in all, it had been a successful day: a morning of smooth sailing, followed by the takedown of a filthy slaver ship. The crew would be refreshed after a night in Hercinia, and then they’d be on their way to the Rialto Bay.

And then, at long last, Piper would go back to Kirkwall, and she’d get to see Cullen’s charming little smile again. 

********************

“This is a mistake,” Fenris warned her. 

“I’ll miss you too,” she said cheekily. She tucked a stray strand of her hair back into the scarf that was containing the rest of her hair, then jammed a large floppy hat onto her head to hide the distinctive silvery mass. 

Fenris made a disgusted noise, and Varric sighed. “Seriously, Piper, this is… not a great idea.”

She shot Varric a warning look, and he unfolded his arms and sighed again. “But you’re the captain, so it’s up to you.” He waved at the rope ladder that trailed down to the dinghy. 

She gently punched Varric’s shoulder. “Good man,” she said. “I’ll see you guys in Darktown at the usual pickup.”

“If you survive the day,” Fenris remarked. 

“Two royals and a bottle of rum say I will,” she replied. Then she clambered down the ladder. 

Fifteen minutes later, she stepped off the dinghy and onto the deserted beach. She nodded thanks to her crewmate, and he began to row away as Piper slid into the nearest thicket of untended dune grass. 

This beach led straight to the navy headquarters – or the Gallows, as it was less-than-fondly known by the broader pirate community. It was guarded on all sides by navy guardsmen, but with a little determination and a lot of stealth, the guards could be easily bypassed. 

Luckily, Piper had both in spades.

She snuck through the grass and waited for gaps in the guards’ formations. Soon she was sneaking through the shadows along the side of the navy headquarters building. She knew that Cullen’s office was on the eastern side of the building – he’d told her once that he enjoyed watching the sunrise from his window when he was on early duty – so it was just a matter of strategically peeking in the windows until she caught sight of him.

And more importantly, until he caught sight of _her._

It didn’t take long for her to spot him, what with his height and those swoon-worthy shoulders and that glorious head of wavy blond hair. She ducked down below his window as soon as she spotted him; he was talking to two of his men, and she listened hard through the glass until the voices fell quiet. 

Carefully and slowly, she peeked into his window. He was standing with his palms flat on the desk and perusing some documents, and he was alone. 

Piper stood up and tapped firmly on the window. 

His hand instantly went to his sword as he whipped around. His face was creased in a scowl, but as soon as he saw her face, his mouth dropped into a perfect ‘o’ of surprise.

Piper grinned at him. His face was already turning red, and a feeling of warmth spread through her chest at the charming pinkness of his cheeks.

She winked at him, then darted away. Swiftly and silently she hurried around the side of the building, and when she was at the southeast corner of the building, she started untying her skirt. 

It was a long, flowing skirt of the type that elven servants tended to wear in the Free Marches. Piper had tied the bulk of it to her legs so she could sneak up to the building, but now it was time for the skirt to serve its purpose. 

She let the fabric fall into place around her legs. She adjusted her hat and made sure her hair was hidden, then boldly strolled around the front of the navy headquarters building. 

As she was crossing the courtyard toward the gates that led into Hightown, she heard the sonorous creak of heavy wooden doors. 

She glanced over her shoulder and smiled: Cullen was striding down the steps with a scowl on his face. 

She beamed at him as he strode toward her. “Why hello, Golden Boy, fancy meeting you here.”

“What are you doing here?” he demanded as he hurried closer. “If anyone sees you–”

“Commander,” a voice called from the steps of the headquarters. “Can you sign this, please? I forgot to ask you before…” 

Cullen whipped around. Rylen was standing on the steps with a stack of papers in his hands, but his eyes went wide as they fell on Piper. 

“Wait,” Rylen said dumbly. “Is that–” 

Piper had no choice. Cullen couldn’t be seen chatting with her, or he’d get in trouble. She deftly tucked one foot behind Cullen’s heel and shoved him with all her strength. 

_Fenedhis,_ he was a solid wall of muscle. But the trick took him by surprise, just as she’d hoped it would: he stumbled over her booted foot and fell onto his butt with an _oomph_ of surprise.

“Commander!” Rylen shouted. 

Piper grinned at Cullen’s stunned face. “Chase me,” she said, and she hiked up her skirt and took off. 

She pelted straight into the heart of Hightown. Nobles and servants were milling around sedately and wandering from shop to shop, and they looked up in alarm as Piper flung herself among them. But as soon as she was in the thick of the crowd, she dropped her skirts and adjusted her posture to a meek and deferential slouch. 

She walked demurely among the other marketgoers and subtly tried to adjust her hair beneath her hat. She could already feel it coming loose from the scarf, and she was starting to regret not braiding it up. 

A minute later, she heard his stern commanding voice: “Captain Lavellan!” 

She smirked. Oh, what she wouldn’t do to get the Commander to call out her name in a considerably more _personal_ situation. 

She looked over her shoulder. Cullen was there with four of his men behind him, and as soon as he met her eye, he scowled. 

“Lavellan, stop!” he barked. But even from this distance, Piper could see the worry in the tilt of his eyebrows. 

She grinned at him, then bolted away through the crowd, ignoring the protests and angry outbursts of the Hightown nobles as she hurriedly pushed past them. 

“Excuse me–!”

“Maker’s breath, these elves are out of control.”

“Blasted knife-ears, I’m telling you…”

Piper chanced a glance behind her. Cullen and his men were hot on her trail, and Cullen was just starting to pinken in the face from the chase.

She skipped around to face him. “Desk work must be slowing you down, Commander,” she yelled. “This is hardly a challenge.” 

His scowl deepened, and Piper couldn’t help but laugh as she darted around a corner. She bolted down a less-populated alleyway and rounded another corner. Then her booted feet skidded against the rain-dampened market streets, and she almost lost her balance. 

“Fuck,” she swore. Her fingers scrabbled on the paving stones for purchase, and she quickly regained her footing, but the skid was enough for Cullen and the other recruits to round the corner after her. 

They were a mere ten metres away now. She looked up, and her stomach dropped: it was a dead end. 

She muttered a curse and looked around for another way to escape. With no exit in view, Cullen and his men were gaining on her with alarming speed.

“You have nowhere else to run, Lavellan. Surrender!” 

Cullen’s commanding voice rang out in the alley, and a perverse shiver ran down Piper’s spine at the sound. In a friendlier context, she’d happily provoke that commanding tone from her Golden Boy, but with his men present and that inconvenient death sentence hanging over her head… 

Then she spotted her means of escape: stacks of crates piled against the wall, then a span of maybe two metres to the top of the wall itself. The climb was steep, and the crates looked rickety at best, but she’d managed crazier stunts before. 

She lifted her skirts, then bolted toward the stack of crates and vaulted onto the nearest one. Without hesitating, she began scrambling up the stack of crates. 

_Fucking skirt,_ she thought as the fabric caught on the crate splinters. Nevertheless, she was nearing the top of the stack, and Cullen and his men were still scrambling down the alley.

She hauled herself onto the top of the stack, then looked down at Cullen. “Apologies, Commander,” she called down. “Surrender just isn’t in my vocabulary.” She carefully turned to face the wall, and with a deep, steadying breath, she leapt for the top of the wall. 

Her dexterous fingers only just managed to catch a hold. It wasn’t much, but it was enough for her to haul herself halfway up and dig her booted feet into the bricks.

She hauled herself onto the top of the wall and sank into a balanced crouch, then looked down at Cullen and his men. The lieutenants were attempting to follow her up the crates, but they were too heavy and the crates too weak; with a pathetic creaking of splintering wood, the crates toppled into a mess of wood on the ground.

Piper released a heavy breath and grinned. Cullen’s chest was visibly heaving from the exertion of the chase, and his brow was set in a deep frown.

Mythal’s mercy, he was gorgeous when he was mad. When he _wasn’t_ mad, too, but she would take what she could get. She blew him a kiss. “Another time, Commander!” she chirped, and she hopped off the wall to the other side.

She landed lightly on the balls of her feet, then rose to her feet and slumped back against the wall to catch her breath. From the other side of the wall, she could hear Cullen’s voice barking orders to his men. 

“You two, head to the Lowtown entrance. Rylen, remain at the mouth of this alley in case she doubles back. I’ll head in the direction of the Chantry in case she passes that way.”

 _The Chantry,_ Piper thought. She slapped a hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle. That was the perfect place to go. Cullen’s men wouldn’t expect the heathen Mad Piper to set foot in the precious Chantry, and since Cullen himself was going there… 

_Maybe he said it on purpose._ Now that was a thrilling thought. Giving them a sneaky way to talk before she got out of Hightown, perhaps?

There was only one way to find out. She lifted her stupid skirt and ran down the deserted back alley, then made her way to the Chantry and swiftly slipped through the heavy carved doors. 

The doors slowly swung shut behind her, and Piper pressed her back against the doors for a moment and looked around. The main room seemed to be empty; if anyone was present, it seemed that they were puttering around in a back room somewhere. 

Piper removed her hat and haphazardly tucked it into her sash as she gazed around, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the low light. This was the first time she’d ever set foot in the Kirkwall Chantry, and she’d be lying if she denied that it was beautiful.

Murals of Andraste’s teachings spanned the walls from floor to ceiling. The intricate stained glass windows and the vaulted ceilings covered in gold filigree all added to the ornate and reverent feel, and Piper felt amusingly out of place. Her dirty boots and sun- and seaworn clothing seemed practically sinful as she padded silently along the marble floors. 

She idly trailed her callused fingers along the shiny wooden pews as she made her way further into the building. Finally, close to the front of the Chantry, she gazed up into the intricately carved face of an obscenely large statue of Andraste.

She smirked and lifted a finger to her scarred lips. “Shhh,” she whispered. “Don’t give me away, all right? You were a feisty one, or so I hear, but so am I.”

Her hushed voice was swallowed by the thick velvet draperies that hung at the back of the Chantry. Piper smirked at the enormous statue for a moment longer, then tucked her thumbs idly into her belt. It was the middle of the week, but it still seemed odd that this place was so empty. Given how pious most humans were in this part of the world, she’d have expected there to be more people.

Right on cue, she heard the groan of the Chantry doors opening. She quickly ducked behind the Andraste statue, but as soon as she recognized the silhouette of the intruder, a grin spread across her face.

She nonchalantly stepped out from behind the statue. “Commander,” she said. “Come for some midweek worship? I had no idea you were so devout.” 

Cullen pursed his lips and tromped along the central aisle toward her, and Piper noted with a spark of pleasure that he was alone. All the same, she casually folded her hands behind her back, all the better to grab the dagger that was hidden in the back of her belt should the need arise. 

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said in a stern but quiet tone as she strode toward the dais. 

She leaned casually against the statue of Andraste. “And here I thought you’d be pleased to see me in a church,” she said. She lowered her voice to a provocative purr. “Should I fall to my knees before you and show how repentant I am?” 

His face instantly went bright red. She could see his flush even in the warm orange light streaming through the stained glass windows. 

“You know what I mean,” he said warningly. “Piper, I told you–”

“Oh, we’re still on a first-name basis, are we?” she said happily. “I thought you’d have forgotten me, I was gone so long. I guess that’s something we can all thank Andraste for.” 

He exhaled sharply and ran a hand through his hair. “I told you not to come back to Kirkwall,” he said. “You know my orders. You… I told you what would happen if you were caught.”

He sounded angry, but his expression was a dead giveaway. He was worried about her. 

The look on his face made her heart flutter in her chest. No one ever worried about her. Not that anyone had to; Piper didn’t need anyone fussing over her. She could look after herself. She’d been looking after herself since Papa had died when she was nine years old. But the fact that Cullen was concerned… 

She moved her hands away from her dagger and folded her arms instead. “Don’t worry, Golden Boy. You couldn’t take me in even if you wanted to.”

He scowled. “What do you mean by that?”

She jerked her thumb at Andraste. “Sanctuary. That’s a thing, right? Varric told me about it. I’m safe from the law as long as I’m in this building.” She pushed away from the statue and wandered over to the nearest pew. “In fact, this building is so nice, I think I might just stay here all day long.”

Cullen glared at her. “You can’t stay here all day.”

“Oh, I think you’ll see that I can,” she said silkily. She seated herself on the pew and blinked up at him. “How shall we pass the time, Golden Boy? I can certainly think of a few ways. Though I’m not sure how I’d feel about _her_ watching.” Piper jerked her chin at the statue of Andraste, then delicately crossed her legs and rearranged her skirt, lifting it up to her thigh in the process.

Cullen didn’t reply. Piper glanced at him, and a warm thrill ran down her spine: his wide-eyed gaze was on her exposed leg, just as she’d hoped. 

She bit her lower lip. “See something you like, Commander?” she said huskily.

He jolted, and his eyes darted back to her face. “Um,” he said, and he ran a hand over his cravat. 

His face was absolutely flaming. Piper watched with glee as he visibly collected himself, then frowned at her once more. 

He folded his arms. “Captain Lavellan, what are you doing here?” he asked. “I told you what the consequences were. What could possibly be so important that you would risk a hanging to come here?” 

His tone was very different than before: still a bit stern, but tired now more than anything. Piper finally decided to cut him some slack. 

She arranged her skirt so it fell modestly to her ankles again. “What do you know about blood lyrium?”

His eyes went wide for a telltale moment, then narrowed suspiciously. “I know it’s an extremely dangerous substance for those who rely on it,” he said. “Why? What do you know of it?” 

She studied him shrewdly. This mattered to him a great deal, and that was something of a surprise. Lyrium smuggling was illegal, but the intensity of his attention made it clear that there was more to this than just a matter of the law. 

She recrossed her legs and waved at the pew. After a moment’s hesitation, Cullen gingerly sat down.

Piper slung her arm casually along the back of the pew. “I know it’s just as dangerous for the slaves who are forced to mine it as it is for people who take it,” she said. “Fen told me. He used to work in a lyrium mine.” 

Cullen raised his eyebrows. “That… that would make sense, given his… where he comes from,” he said. “But what does that have to do with you coming here?”

“We sank a Tevinter slaver ship carrying blood lyrium into Kirkwall,” she said. “Third one in the past nine months or so. Thought you’d want to know you were having a, um, a problem…”

She trailed off. Cullen was staring at her, and his face was going pale.

She swallowed. She liked it so much more when his cheeks were turning pink. “Cullen, what’s wrong?” 

“Did you see where it was shipping to exactly?” he asked urgently. “Or to whom?” 

“Not… not to whom,” she said cautiously. “But we know where their Kirkwall contact was located.” 

“Where?” Cullen demanded.

She frowned. “Cullen, what–”

“Piper, you must tell me what you know,” he interrupted. He was scowling at her now. “This is not some humorous chase through the market. It’s very urgent.”

Piper raised her eyebrows and leaned away from him slightly. “So this is an interrogation now? Last I checked, we weren’t at the Gallows.”

His scowl deepened for a moment. Then he sighed and rubbed his face with both hands. “I… I apologize,” he muttered. “I wasn’t…” He trailed off, and Piper studied his tired expression with an inconvenient pang of sympathy. 

She nibbled the inside of her cheek in awkward silence until he looked up at her again. “Piper, please,” he said quietly. “If you know something about the blood lyrium coming into this city, I need… I would ask that you tell me. It is very important.”

Piper blew out a breath. She genuinely hadn’t meant to tell him much more than she already had; telling him where the blood lyrium was shipping into Kirkwall would mean alerting the Navy to the illicit Darktown docks, and only pirates and a few paid-off navy guards knew about those docks. If she told Cullen, she’d be putting her brethren at risk, especially if they were cracking down on other pirates as harshly as they were trying to crack down on her.

Piper stared hard at him. His face was drawn and serious, and the longer Piper looked at him, the more she realized how exhausted he looked. Dark circles hovered under his coffee-coloured eyes, and he was slightly more stubbly than she remembered. 

She nervously licked her lips. “Tell me why this is so important to you. Then I’ll tell you where the lyrium is coming in.”

“I can’t,” he said. “It is a matter of Kirkwall security.” 

Piper lifted her chin. “I can’t tell you anything until you tell me why you need so badly to know. I don’t understand why you don’t just do normal patrols to find out—”

“I have tried,” he told her. “But the usual methods of… monitoring such activities are not… open to me right now.”

She frowned at him. His face looked determined but tired, and his voice sounded oddly defeated, and the throbbing sense of sympathy in her chest swelled even further. 

She swallowed and forced herself to ignore it. She couldn’t give up the location of the incoming lyrium without getting something in return. She couldn’t place other pirates at risk if Cullen wasn’t willing to take a risk as well. 

“Tit for tat,” she said softly. “Tell me why this matters, and I’ll tell you where to look for your smugglers.”

He gazed at her seriously without speaking, and she unflinchingly returned his stare. They eyed each other for a long, loaded moment, and then Cullen sighed. 

“I think someone in the upper ranks of the navy is involved in the smuggling,” he told her, very quietly. “I… I am trying to sort it out, but it is… it has been difficult to know who to trust.”

“Oh,” Piper breathed. “Shit.”

“Quite,” Cullen said wryly. He looked away from her and up at the statue of Andraste. “You can see why I am desperate for any kind of information.”

Piper pursed her lips, then sighed. “All right. I’ll tell you where the shipment was to come in. But you have to swear to me that you won’t tell anyone else,” she said severely. 

He frowned. “You said–” 

“I know what I said. And I know you’re trying to protect Kirkwall. But I have to look after my people, too,” she said. She lifted her chin obstinately. “Promise you won’t tell anyone. You’re the only Navy boy that I’m sure isn’t an asshole. If you tell anyone else, and they raid those docks and kill a bunch of innocent pirates just trying to come and go…”

Cullen grimaced. “Piper, no pirate is innocent.” 

“And every Navy berk in a uniform is?” she retorted. 

He recoiled slightly, and Piper instantly felt guilty. He’d just told her someone in the upper echelon of the navy was corrupt, and she’d gone and put her foot in her mouth.

She sighed and tugged a loose tendril of hair. “Cullen, please. Just promise you’ll keep this to yourself.”

He ran a hand through his hair, then shrugged in resignation. “I have no choice, do I? I can’t trust anyone else.” 

She regarded him silently for a moment. _Poor Golden Boy,_ she thought. He was just trying to do his job, and he couldn’t trust anyone to help him… 

She sighed. “The shipment was supposed to arrive in…” She swallowed. “... in Darktown.”

Cullen‘s mouth fell open in surprise. “Darktown?” he said. “How? There are no docks there.”

Piper sighed and started to run her fingers through her hair, but she was stopped by the scarf that held it — just barely — in place. She impatiently untied the scarf to release her wild hair, then explained to Cullen as she tied it back up. “There’s an old fishing shack there that’s half-submerged in the bay, sheltered by the overhang of the cliffs. We usually dock there. It’s shitty and small, only good for tiny dinghies, but that’s the point – so small that only we know about it.”

She finished tucking her hair back into her scarf and looked at him once more, only to find him staring at her. His expression was still serious, but also oddly soft, and her heart did a little flip at the look on his face. 

She smiled at him. “What’s the matter, Commander? Cat got your tongue?”

He continued to study her. “This is why you came to Kirkwall?” he asked. “To… to see me and to tell me this?”

She tilted her head curiously. “Yes, of course. Why else would I come?”

His stared wordlessly at her for a moment longer, then shook his head slightly. “You are not like other pirates I have known,” he said softly. 

His eyes were so warm, and Piper could feel her ears turning warm in response. She tore her eyes away from his face and laughed lightly. “I’m not like anyone, Golden Boy.”

He huffed quietly in amusement. Then, to Piper’s regret, he rose to his feet. “Thank you for telling me this,” he said. “I… you didn’t have to come. And I would recommend you not come back again,” he added sternly. “Kirkwall is dangerous in the extreme for your kind right now.” 

Piper rose to her feet as well. “Oh, just stick to ‘thank you’,” she said cheerfully. “We both know I’m going to do exactly as I like.” She stuck out her hand to shake. “It was a pleasure doing business with you, Commander. Perhaps we’ll partner up for some more _pleasurable_ transactions in the future.”

To Piper’s delight, his cheeks went pink. He cleared his throat, then took her hand in his. “Captain Lavellan,” he said formally. 

She winked at him as they shook hands. “Golden Boy.”

The corner of his scarred lips lifted in the tiniest hint of a smile. Then his eyes fell to her wrist. 

Piper watched as his smile faded away, and she dropped her gaze to see what he was looking at.

He was staring at the white scar on her wrist – a burn scar in the clear, distinctive shape of a _P_.

Her eyes darted up to his face. His expression was deadly serious.

She smiled. “ _P_ for Piper,” she said quietly. 

But they both knew what the P was really for, and the practice that was responsible for this scar. 

Cullen didn’t reply. His grip on her hand tightened slightly, and then he gently swept his thumb along the back of her hand. 

The touch of his thumb was delicate, and for a split second, Piper’s breath caught in her chest. Then Cullen released her hand and took a step back. “I should be going,” he said. “I have other duties to attend. But I will be sending a lieutenant here to fetch you,” he said carefully. “One of my men from Lowtown. You’re protected by the laws of sanctuary, but you will be made to answer for your crimes, Captain Lavellan.” 

She nodded. If his men were coming from Lowtown, that gave her a good pocket of time to get out of here and escape to Darktown. 

“I’ll be waiting with bells on, Commander,” she said. “Just me and my girl Andraste here.” She winked at him, then slowly – and provocatively – bent over and started gathering her skirt to tie it around her legs once more. 

To her deep satisfaction, Cullen’s eyes widened as she drew the skirt up to her thighs. Then he straightened his cravat and stepped away. 

“Right. Yes. Um,” he stammered. He tried for a stern scowl, but it ended up looking more like a pout. “Behave yourself in the Chantry,” he said sternly, and he turned on his heel and strode away.

Piper bit back her laughter as he hurried away from her. “I never do,” she called after him. 

He shot her one last glance – was that a hint of a smile she saw on his face? – then he was gone.

Piper chuckled, then briskly tied the skirt around her legs. She jammed her hat back onto her head to hide her hair, then hurried to the Chantry doors.

Speed was of the essence now in escaping the Navy. The most direct route to Darktown was a decrepit underground passage about two blocks away, and the fastest way to get there was by crossing through Hightown market again. She’d certainly kick up a fuss by blasting through there, but there was nothing to be done. 

She smirked as she peered through the Chantry doors. Stealth was all well and good, but not right now. 

Right now, it was time to ruffle some noble feathers.

###  RYNNE 

“... I still can’t believe you simply didn’t go. Rynne, how many times have I told you: at least a day’s notice is the bare minimum for politeness!” Leandra delicately arranged her hat and glare at Rynne. “How am I supposed to show my face at Dulcie’s tea on Friday when you’ve been so unforgivably rude?”

With a huge effort of will, Rynne suppressed a sigh. “The de Launcets are from Orlais. Tell them we do things differently in the Free Marches,” she said loftily. “Dulcie is so foolish, she likely won’t know the difference.”

Leandra slid her gloved hand into the crook of Rynne’s elbow, and Rynne clenched her teeth as her mother viciously pinched the inside of her arm.

“Watch your tone, darling,” Leandra said sweetly. She waved elegantly at a passing acquaintance. “You don’t know who’s listening.” 

_It’s the Hightown market. Everyone is always listening in this fucking place,_ Rynne thought resentfully. The social circle here was so insular and small. No one had anything better to do than snoop on each other to see if anyone else’s life was more exciting than their own. 

Rynne knew better than to say this, though. At least not in her mother’s company. If Carver was here, she might complain to him about the staid and petty ways of Hightown society, but he was working with Commander Cullen today. Besides, whenever Rynne complained to him, he always just pursed his lips and told her some boring variation of ‘that’s the way it is’ or ‘there’s no point complaining about it’. 

She sighed very quietly and wafted through the market beside her mother. Leandra greeted all the ladies they met, and Rynne mindlessly smiled and chatted with each of them about so-and-so’s new baby carriage and the scandalous scratch on what’s-her-face’s heirloom silver platter. With every smile and greeting and banal fucking question she answered, it felt like the manners and the politeness and the inaneness of it all were building up and boiling inside her belly, making her want to scream. 

She smiled and nodded politely to another pair of her mother’s friends as they drifted away. Then, predictably, Leandra started badgering her again about the de Launcets. 

“Really, Rynne, whatever could have made you decide that you could just send a handmaiden to the de Launcets to turn down their invitation? Dulcie told me that poor Emile was so very disappointed when you didn’t show.”

“Are you certain he wasn’t just upset to not have an audience for his croquet game?” Rynne said. “Not that croquet is much of a spectator sport.”

Leandra pursed her lips. “You are being awfully sarcastic today, darling.”

Rynne blinked innocently. “Does that mean you agree with my opinion about croquet?”

“You can’t afford to be so choosy," Leandra said severely. "You’re not getting any younger, you know.”

“And Emile doesn’t seem to be getting any smarter,” Rynne snapped. “Or more interesting. Or less whingy, or–”

Leandra pulled her to a stop. Rynne pressed her lips together hard and lowered her gaze deferentially as her mother lifted her chin. 

“I dislike your tone, darling,” Leandra said softly. “We’ll discuss this when we return home.”

Rynne didn’t reply. Already her scalp was itching at the soft, venomous tone of her mother’s voice. Leandra shot her a warning look, then turned away and made her way to the nearest fabric shop.

Finally alone for a moment, Rynne sighed out loud. She fixed a pleasant little smile on her face and reached for her elaborately pinned and curled hair – ostensibly to rearrange a hairpin, but in truth, she wanted to check her scalp.

She gingerly dipped her fingers into the hair behind her left ear and touched the still-painful skin. Then she lowered her hand and surreptitiously checked her fingers. 

_Good,_ she thought. _No blood._ The scratches were scabbing over already, then. Maybe she’d be lucky and it wouldn’t hurt when she washed her hair tomorrow. 

She pulled out her fan and nodded demurely to a passing gentleman as she idly fanned herself. Then a commotion at the northeast corner of the market drew her attention.

“Oh my–”

“Such manners!”

“Sorry, mate, you’ll be finding no fucking manners here!” 

Rynne perked up. She’d only heard that sultry voice once before, but she’d recognize it any day. 

It was Mad Piper, and she seemed to be causing a ruckus in the market – likely by her mere presence alone, since the only elves who frequented Hightown were either servants or merchants. Rynne grinned and tried to peer over the heads of the other marketgoers, but it turned out she didn’t need to; Piper was seemed to be shoving her way through the market at full speed, and directly in Rynne’s direction. 

Sure enough, Piper suddenly burst out of the crowd and almost slammed right into Rynne. She dodged swiftly at the last second, and Rynne stumbled in surprise. 

“Watch it, love, move it or lose it!” Piper barked. She shoved a stray lock of silvery hair out of her face and met Rynne’s eyes, and her big amber eyes lit up with recognition. “Hey, it’s you! Lady Hawke, right?” 

“Oh please, it’s just Rynne,” she said happily. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Oh, running from the law, you know,” Piper panted. She planted her fists on her hips and grinned. 

Rynne grinned back at her. “Running from the law, hmm? Sure you weren’t running from one particular Navy commander? Or running after him, more like?” She waggled her eyebrows suggestively. She still hadn’t forgotten the surprising and endearing connection that Piper seemed to have with Cullen.

Piper threw her head back and laughed raucously. “Finally someone who understands what I’m about!” she crowed. “I could use someone like you on my crew.”

Rynne barked out a sardonic little laugh. “Where do I sign up?” she said jokingly.

Piper elbowed her. “Right here with me, anytime you want! Seriously, there’s a hammock on my ship if you want it.”

Piper’s eyes were wide and earnest. A funny jolt of excitement made Rynne’s stomach flip. “Wha... are you serious?” Rynne said.

“Sure!” Piper said brightly. “Why not?”

 _Why not?_ Well, because it was ridiculous, that was why. The very idea of it: of running off and leaving everything behind to jump on Piper’s ship and join her crew – her crew that included that gorgeous, mysterious Fenris fellow… 

Her stomach flipped again. An odd tingle of surreality was climbing up the back of her neck, and she stared at Piper’s open smile for a breathless moment. 

It was ludicrous, right? The very thought of it running away to become a damned pirate. Fenris himself had said how dangerous it was to be a pirate, what with the storms and the risk of being board by other pirates and all that. It was… completely ludicrous to even be considering it.

She swallowed hard and took a step back. “Er, not today,” she said. “Maybe, um. Maybe some other time.” 

Piper’s smile softened slightly, and she elbowed Rynne again. “Think on it, love,” she said. “Let me know if you change your mind. But for now, I–”

“Shit,” Rynne blurted. Behind Piper’s shoulder, about five metres away, she’d spotted the distinctive navy-blue coats of the Kirkwall Navy – two men, it seemed, and as luck would have it, one of them was Carver.

She grabbed Piper’s wrist and pushed her in the direction of Lowtown. “Go,” she hissed. “I’ll distract them.”

Piper’s gaze darted from Rynne’s face to the lieutenants. “Are you sure? They–”

“One of them is my brother,” she told Piper urgently. “Just go. I’ve got this.” 

Piper grinned at her. “Defiant little thing, aren’t you?” she said. “You should definitely join me someday.” She winked at Rynne, then took off. 

Rynne watched as the fleet-footed little elf disappeared through the crowd, then gracefully made her way through the crowd toward her brother and his partner. As soon as they caught sight of her, she smiled brightly and waved. “Yoo-hoo! Carver!”

Carver frowned as he spotted her. “Where’s Mother?” he said distractedly as he looked around. 

“In the fabric shop,” Rynne said. She batted her eyelashes at Carver’s partner. “I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure. I’m Rynne. Rynne Hawke.” She elegantly offered him her hand. 

Carver’s scowl deepened. “We don’t have time for this,” he complained. “We’re working. There’s a notorious pirate loose in–”

“Carver, don’t be rude!” Rynne protested. “What would Mother say?” 

Carver’s scowl deepened even further, and Rynne bit the inside of her cheek to stop from laughing. If his face grew any more annoyed, it would collapse in on itself. 

He waved bad-temperedly to his partner. “Bryen, this is my sister, Rynne.”

Bryen took her hand and bowed politely. “It’s lovely to meet you, my lady.”

“And you, Lieutenant,” Rynne said graciously. She fanned herself and lifted her shoulder slightly in a flirtatious manner. “You two must be parched. It is frightfully hot today. Can I interest you in some lemonade?”

Carver groaned. “Rynne, we’re _working_. We don’t want lemonade.”

“Nonsense!” Rynne protested. She gently laid a hand on Byren’s arm. “A refreshing beverage never did anyone any harm.” She gently led Carver’s partner toward the elven cafe that was conveniently on the other side of the market from the direction that Piper had gone. “Now Bryen, I don’t suppose you’re a fan of the theatre? I’ve been hearing such mixed reviews about the play that they’re putting on right now. It’s apparently some Orlesian affair, but the use of masks is quite over the top, if you ask me...”

She continued to prattle vacantly at Carver’s helpless partner while Carver sullenly trailed along behind them. But as she blathered mindlessly about Orlesian masks and her favourite frilly cakes and all kinds of other distracting bullshit that Carver would scold her for later, her mind was on Piper’s spontaneous offer to join her ship.

It was genuinely a terrible idea. Rynne knew nothing about sailing or travelling or, well, _anything_ really aside from being a well-mannered and charming upper-class brat. She’d only get in the way if she ever happened to find herself on Piper’s ship. What would she even do on a pirate ship, anyway? Stare at everyone while they did their sailing and their, er, steering the ship, and… navigating?

It was hopeless. A complete fantasy, as usual, just like all of her wistful hopes.

To be fair, though, she’d made one of her fantasies come to life already. She’d gone to the Lowtown market. She’d made friends with pirates, and even flirted with one of them.

Rynne smirked to herself as she handed six coppers to the café owner. Who knew? Maybe this fantasy would become something more someday, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos to our lovely artist/mastermind Schoute for the chase scene through Hightown and for the Piper sass in the Chantry! xoxoxo
> 
> You can find us on Tumblr [here (Ye Olde Artist)](https://schoute.tumblr.com/) and [here (Ye Olde Writer).](https://pikapeppa.tumblr.com/) Come by and say hi!


	4. Fast Learner

###  FENRIS 

Fenris was silent as he followed Piper along the filthy alley that led from Darktown to the Lowtown market. Her booted steps were silent as always, but her gait was jaunty, and Fenris frowned disapprovingly when she started to hum quietly to herself.

He didn’t say anything, though. He remained silent as they made their way through the alley. It wasn’t until they reached the mouth of the market that Piper turned and gave him a reproving look.

“Come on, Fen. Are you going to be this boring all day?” she complained. 

“I am not doing anything,” he said defensively. 

“Exactly,” Piper said. “You haven’t spoken to me since we left the ship. If I’d known you were going to be so boring, I’d have brought Anders instead.”

Fenris was unamused. “I told you we shouldn’t come here,” he said. “I told you it was dangerous, and Varric did as well, yet here we are.” He folded his arms. “My opinion means nothing to you, so why bother speaking?”

Piper stared at him for a moment. Then a slow, shit-eating grin spread across her face. “You’re pouting.”

He scowled more deeply and looked away toward the seething activity in the market. “I am not pouting. Pouting is for small children.”

Piper propped her fists on her hips and beamed at him. “Yes, it is. So what does that make you?”

“An elf who may soon be abandoning your crew if you continue to aggravate me,” he deadpanned. He jerked his chin at the market. “You insist on being here, so get on with it. The sooner we get this over with, the sooner we can return to the ship.” 

Her teasing expression softened. “It won’t take long, I promise. Quick foray through the market, then I’m just going to nip into Hightown–”

“A terrible idea,” he muttered. 

“–and you can wait in Darktown for me if you want. You don’t even have to stay in the market,” she finished. 

He shrugged and tucked his hands in his pockets. It was difficult to say whether Lowtown or Darktown was less appealing. The exposure and the press of people in the market had always made him uneasy, but Darktown was dank and unpleasant. It was populated only by criminals and smugglers and pirates who were quickly passing through, and it was… well, boring. 

Fenris knew that Piper would tease him if he expressed this opinion, though. He knew she thought he was overly cautious and unadventurous. But compared to Piper with her penchant to run headfirst into every possible danger, _anyone_ could be called unadventurous. 

It wasn’t that Fenris disliked adventure or new experiences per se. The problem was that the risks so often outweighed the nebulous possible benefits – hence his and Piper’s diametrically opposed views about coming back to Kirkwall every month. Was it really worth risking her own death just to flirt with that cursed Commander Cullen? Did she really think her life was worth a foolish visit with her Hightown crush?

His fingers brushed over the scarlet ribbon in his pocket. A fleeting memory of smiling copper eyes rose in his mind, and he quickly shoved the thought aside. 

He folded his arms and sighed. “I will wait in Lowtown,” he grumbled. 

She smiled again, then punched him playfully in the arm. “Good man. I knew you’d come around.” 

He huffed quietly as he followed her into the market, but his hint of amusement was short-lived. As they moved through the crowd, Fenris noticed that they were attracting more attention than usual, even though Piper’s behaviour was relatively subdued.

People were staring at him. Their eyes were darting over his face and his marred arms in a way that they hadn’t done since he and Piper had first started coming here a year or so ago. More curious yet, they were staring at Piper as well, even though she was known to practically everyone who regularly frequented this place. 

He hunched his shoulders and rubbed a hand over his stark white hair. “Piper–”

“I know,” she muttered. “Let me ask someone. Hey,” she tapped a nearby merchant on the shoulder, “what’s happening? Why’s everyone staring at us?”

The merchant grimaced and pointed to the noticeboard that was hung near the stairs that led to Hightown. “Sorry, Captain,” he said. 

Fenris looked, and his jaw dropped in dismay. The noticeboard had multiple copies of the same two WANTED posters: one bearing a sketch of Piper, and incomprehensibly, one with a sketch of Fenris himself. 

“Fuck,” Piper muttered. They strode over to the noticeboard and ignored her WANTED poster to study his instead. They’d all known for months that Piper was wanted for her various Kirkwall crimes, but Fenris had never been arrested for anything. 

“Why is there a poster of _me?_ ” he demanded. “What are they accusing me of?” 

Her eyebrows rose. “‘Fraternizing with a known pirate’,” she read off. 

He shook his head in a sharp negation. “No. That is not a crime in Kirkwall,” he said. Before setting foot in Kirkwall for the first time, Fenris had asked Dorian to read the relevant parts of Kirkwall law to him to ensure that his mere presence here was permitted, despite his affiliation with Piper and her crew. Dorian had assured him repeatedly (and with increasing annoyance) that he could not be arrested for the mere fact of being a member of a known pirate’s crew. 

Piper turned back to the poster and peered at it more carefully, and Fenris shifted restlessly until she finished reading it to herself. “Shit,” she muttered. “It looks like the laws have changed. It says here that the new anti-fraternization law is ‘by the Viscount’s Orders’. Signed a month ago.” Her expression was apologetic as she looked up at him. “It changed since we were last here. Fen, I’m really sorry–”

“It is not your fault,” he snapped. “But we cannot be here. We have to leave now.” He took a step back from the notice board and looked around the market. People were still staring and whispering, and any of them could go straight to Hightown to call on the nearest Navy officer to arrest him… 

A ripple of unease ran down his spine, and he took another step back. Piper held out one placating hand. “Fenris–” 

“I will not be chained,” he hissed. “I would sooner tear their hearts from their chests than be taken in chains.” 

“Okay, okay,” she said hastily. “It’s not going to come to that. You go back to Darktown and wait for me, and I’ll go straight to Hightown super quickly instead of–” 

“You’re still going to Hightown in the face of _this?_ ” Fenris demanded.

“Yes,” Piper said loudly. Then she stepped closer to him and lowered her voice. “Cullen held up his part of the deal. He didn’t tell anyone about Darktown. But he thought there was trouble in the upper ranks of the Navy. I want to make sure he’s okay.”

“He is not your responsibility,” Fenris retorted. “The livelihood of your crew, on the other hand…” 

She shot him a mock-sad little pout. “Are you sad because you think I care about you less than Cullen?”

He ran a hand through his hair in frustration, then pointed accusingly at her. “If you are not back in Darktown in one hour, I will leave without you.”

“Fair enough,” she said. “Now look, I’m just going to run to the Halla’s Head to borrow a disguise from one of the girls there, and then I’ll go to Hightown. I’ll be so quick you won’t even notice I’m gone.” 

He grunted a reluctant assent, and Piper darted away in the direction of the Halla’s Head. Fenris turned away in the direction of the dilapidated alley to Darktown, but before he could take more than a few steps, someone tapped his shoulder. 

He whipped around with a vicious scowl, and a dwarven merchant held up his hands defensively. It was the same merchant who had sold Rynne Hawke a necklace on the day they’d met, about two months ago. 

“What do you want?” Fenris demanded.

The merchant swallowed hard. “You… you’re the Ghost, right? Mad Piper’s Ghost?” 

Fenris stared at him with growing confusion. “What?” 

The merchant gave him an odd look. “You… that’s you on them posters, yeh?” He pointed at the noticeboard. 

Fenris darted a glance at the posters, then back to the merchant. “And what if it is?” 

“Nothing,” the merchant said quickly. “Nothing, just… I got a letter ‘ere for your Cap. Thought you could pass it on to ‘er.”

He was holding out a vellum letter, and Fenris snatched it from his fingers. The vellum was fine quality but smudged with dirt, as though it had been held somewhere filthy for some time, and the wax seal was an unusual geometric sigil. 

Fenris peered suspiciously at the letter, then at the merchant. “Where did you get this?”

“That fancy bird. Hawke. The one what almost got mugged that time.” The merchant raised his eyebrows. “You remember the one. She stiffed me for that necklace, she did.”

Fenris’s belly flip-flopped. This letter was from Rynne? 

He scowled at it with fresh ire. No wonder it was so expensive-looking. But why was Rynne Hawke leaving letters in Lowtown for Piper?

He looked up at the merchant. “How long have you had this? When did she… when was it handed to you?” 

The merchant scratched his bearded chin. “Couple weeks ago, yeh? Maybe two or three. Messenger gave me three whole royals to hang on to it for Cap’n Mad Piper.” 

“I’m back!” Piper skidded up beside them and jauntily saluted the merchant in greeting, then looked at the letter in Fenris’s hands. “Hey, what’s that?”

He handed it to her. “It is from Rynne Hawke.”

Piper’s eyes went wide. “You’re kidding.” She took the letter and carefully broke the wax seal, then began to read.

Fenris tapped the hilt of his sabre, then folded his arms and glanced cagily around the market. “Well? What does it say?”

Piper let out a short little laugh. “It’s, um…” She ran a hand through her hair and looked up at him, and he frowned more deeply at the anxious look on her face. 

She lowered her voice before answering his question. “She’s asking to join the crew.”

Fenris gaped at her. “What?”

“She wants to leave Kirkwall and join the Lady Luck.” Piper studied the letter as she spoke. “Says she’ll pay us a great deal of money if we’ll let her join the crew. How naive is that?” Piper laughed, but her voice was tense. “Paying a captain to join the crew? Ridiculous. My crew don’t pay me. What does she think, that she needs a dowry to join the Lady Luck?”

“Maybe she should bring a dowry,” Fenris retorted. “She will be dead weight on the ship.”

Piper shot him an offended look. “What do you mean by that crack?”

“Piper, be reasonable for once,” Fenris said scathingly. “Will she be able to do anything useful? Does she have any practical skills? She is of noble birth. What will she be able to _do_ on the ship?”

Piper shrugged. “She can be the ship’s eye candy. Raising morale for the crew and all. Mythal knows _you_ enjoyed looking at her.”

He scowled. “I do not. I did not,” he self-corrected hastily. 

Piper shot a very pointed look at his traitorously hot ears. “Uh-huh,” she said. “Anyway, who cares what she can do? She’s in trouble, so we’re going to help her out.”

Fenris drew back slightly. “She is in trouble?”

“Yes,” Piper said impatiently. “Why the fuck else do you think she’s hoping to run away?”

Fenris glared at her. “You didn’t say she was in trouble,” he said. “You made it sound like it was some foolish lark on her part.” 

Piper rolled her eyes. “Fen, for fuck’s sake–”

“I’ll remind you that I rely on _you_ for information,” he snarled. He gestured angrily at the letter, which he was unable to read.

She sighed heavily. “ _Fine,_ fine, fair enough. I’ll read the important bits to you. She says here: ‘I’m in a bit of a bind. There’s a situation that’s come up that I’d rather avoid being tied to for the rest of my life, if you catch my drift. Any chance there’s room for a lady on that ship of yours? The sooner I can slip my way out of it, the better – you know how patient men can be.’”

She finished reading and gave Fenris and expectant look. He frowned. “An arranged marriage?” he said slowly.

“That’s my impression, too,” Piper said. “And this letter was dated just over two weeks ago.” 

He pursed his lips. “Is that truly a sufficient reason to run away from a privileged life?” he muttered.

Piper raised her eyebrows and folded her arms. “I guess we’ll have to find out the details after we rescue her.” 

They stared at each other in silence for a long, tense moment. Then Fenris sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “ _Venhedis fasta vass,_ ” he muttered. 

Piper gave him a small smile. “So you’re going to help me get her out of Hightown, then?”

He scowled. “If we are caught, we will be charged with kidnapping along with everything else. They would hang us for this.”

“Good thing we’re not going to get caught, then,” she said brightly. 

He gave her a hard look, and she lifted her eyebrows expectantly. Finally he _tsk_ ed. “Fine. I will help you, as you leave me little choice.”

“Perfect. I knew I could count on you,” she said happily. “All right, we need a plan. Let’s go back to Darktown for now while we figure something out.”

They headed along the crumbling alley back to Darktown. Fenris nodded distractedly as Piper babbled about disguises and climbing up windows in the dark of night, and while she made her plans and talked about using boot polish to hide her distinctive hair, Fenris slid his hand into his pocket. 

His fingers found the ribbon again – the red satin ribbon that Rynne had casually asked him to hold for her, and which she’d forgotten to take back before Cullen had led her away. Fenris still wasn’t sure why he’d kept it; it was worthless to him, after all, not to mention a reminder of the casual wastefulness of the noble class: to hand over an expensive sliver of fabric so casually without realizing it was gone. But every time Fenris thought about throwing the satin ribbon away, something made him pause. 

It was that cursed fleeting memory of her eyes. The smile at the corners of Rynne Hawke’s eyes and their precise honeyed shade of bronze, and the way she’d looked at him without _staring_ , like she was seeing more than just his obvious scars. It was rare and unexpected, especially in a noble-born human. Every time Fenris made to throw the ribbon away, that look in her eyes rose to the forefront of his mind, and he found himself tucking the ribbon into his pocket once more. 

_Foolish and sentimental for no good reason,_ he scolded himself silently as he followed Piper to one of their caches in Darktown. He really should throw it away. He had no use for such sentimentality, not when his primary focus was on surviving each day. There was no place for the sort of fanciful speculation that drifted through his mind at night when he thought of the red satin ribbon in his pocket, especially since he had never really expected to see Rynne Hawke again. 

“Here,” Piper said, and Fenris was jolted from his thoughts as she thrust a bundle of black fabric at him. “That’ll keep you nice and incognito. And we should find you some boots to cover the tats on your legs…”

He took the threadbare black hooded coat she offered him, but shook his head. “No,” he said. “No boots. I will need bare feet if we may be scaling walls.” 

She raised her eyebrows. “Ooh. Good point. Well, I’ll need my boots for blending in with the other servants in Hightown.” She dug around in the cache and pulled out a small container of black shoe polish and a pair of daggers, then handed the daggers to Fenris. 

He placed his sabre in their dinghy for safekeeping, then began sharpening the daggers while Piper tied up her silver hair. They worked quietly for a time, then Fenris spoke to her. “This is the most dangerous thing you have ever done in Kirkwall.” 

She didn’t reply, so Fenris pressed on. “The human Navy will consider this a serious crime. They _will_ see it as abduction, regardless of what the Hawke woman says. I know you are aware of this,” he said quietly. “This is not something that even Cullen could ignore.”

“I know,” Piper said with an edge to her voice. “That’s why we won’t get caught.”

Fenris ran the whetstone along his blade once more before speaking. “Even if this goes off without incident, I will no longer return to Kirkwall with you. I will not risk setting foot in this place again.”

She nodded and unscrewed the pot of shoe polish. “That’s entirely fair.”

He leaned forward and stared at her until he caught her gaze. “If we are caught, I will not hesitate,” he said quietly. “I mean it, Piper. I will _not_ be chained by anyone.” 

A tiny frown appeared between her eyebrows at the clear implication in his words. She eyed him in silence for a long moment before replying. “We won’t be caught,” she said, very seriously. “I’ll stake my life on it.”

Fenris stared hard at her for another moment, then leaned back and continued sharpening his daggers. “Pray that you will not need to.” 

She scooped a blob of polish, then smeared it on the hair by her temples. “Have a little faith in your captain. When have I ever steered you wrong?”

Her tone was jocular again, but her expression was focused and fierce – not unlike the way she looked before a raid on a slaver ship. 

_Good,_ he thought ruthlessly. He wanted her to have this do-or-die attitude before going into Hightown, because that’s what it would take to successfully get away with this scheme.

That’s what it would take to get out of Hightown alive.

**********************

Very late that night, when the only occupants of the Hightown streets were the patrolling guardsmen and the rare Hightown criminal, Fenris skulked through the shadows on his way to the Hawke estate.

Piper had told him where the estate was and how to recognize it: the Hawke family crest, same as the symbol on the wax seal that Rynne had left on her letter. Piper had already spent a few hours incognito in Hightown, so by the time Fenris met with her on the grounds of the Hawke estate, she would know the best time, place, and method to get Rynne out of her family home and out of the city. 

He slipped unseen past the usual smattering of city guards and climbed over the expensive wrought-iron gates and into the grounds. It wasn’t long before he found Piper hiding behind some of the extensive ornamental shrubbery that decorated the Hawke’s vast backyard. 

He crouched beside her. “Well?” he whispered. “How do we proceed?”

She looked at him. “Cullen’s gone,” she said. 

Fenris paused for a moment. He was momentarily thrown by her unrelated response. “What… what do you mean, he is gone?” he finally asked.

“Not stationed in Kirkwall anymore, it seems,” Piper replied. “I snuck by his office. There’s some new fellow in there, and the Navy grunts were calling him ‘Commander’. Looks like the Golden Boy has found himself a new post.”

Fenris studied her carefully. Her words were light and breezy and her expression was pleasant, but her eyes were oddly intense. 

He narrowed his own eyes. “You suspect something is off?”

“Creators, yes,” she said. She turned away to look at Rynne’s house. “It’s fine, though. I’ll deal with it later. Let’s save our fair Lady Hawke from a dull life.”

She was clearly bluffing. If she suspected something had happened to Cullen, there was no way she was _fine_. 

It was equally clear that she did not want to talk about it further right now. Fenris didn’t press her; they needed to focus on the task at hand, after all. They could discuss this Cullen issue later. 

“How do we proceed?” he repeated. 

She pointed at the house. “Rynne’s bedroom is on the second floor, on the right. Convenient little balcony there, it’ll make things easier getting in and out. Lamps and candles went out in the whole house over an hour ago, and the last movement I saw was a servant on the first floor, about twenty minutes ago.” She pointed jerked her chin at the lower floor. “There’s one guard covering the grounds; he does a tour of the whole grounds every fifteen minutes or so. Should give us plenty of time to sneak back out the window and over the gates.”

Fenris scoffed quietly. “You think this Hawke woman will be able to climb down a wall and over the gates?”

“Sure, with a little help,” Piper said. 

Despite her casual words, there was a distinct edge to her voice, and Fenris could tell his doubt was scratching at her nerves. But this was not a task that Piper could succeed at by bulling her way in headfirst. It wasn’t like she could throw Rynne out the window and hope she would land on her feet, after all.

He frowned at her, but she speared him with a glare. “We are doing this, Fen,” she whispered fiercely. “I am not backing out now.” 

“I know that,” he hissed. “I just hope you know what that might entail.” He dropped his gaze to the dagger at her waist. 

She tutted at him. “Always the pessimist,” she whispered. She turned away and looked around the yard, then nodded briskly to him and darted across the grass toward the house. 

She immediately began scrambling up the brick wall toward Rynne’s bedroom. Fenris followed swiftly at her heels, gripping the mortar with his callused fingers and toes and hauling himself up the wall as quickly as he could. By the time he swung himself over the bars of the small balcony, Piper was already jimmying open the window latch from the outside. 

Fenris hovered one palm over the throwing knives strapped to his thigh and kept an eye on the yard while Piper cursed softly at the stubborn window. A long, tense moment later, she finally sighed in relief, then swung the window open and poked her head in. 

A moment later, she ducked back out and grinned. “All clear. She’s fast asleep. This is going to be a great surprise.” She snickered, then climbed through the window. 

Fenris followed her into the dark bedroom and loosely closed the window behind them. He darted a glance around the room – no other occupants, thank the Maker – and watched as Piper crept toward the door to check for anyone else being awake in the house. 

He took a cautious step closer to the bed. Just as Piper had said, Rynne was fast asleep; her long dark hair was bound in a braid that curled carelessly over her shoulder, and one of her hands was tucked under her chin, like a sleeping child. 

Fenris critically studied the frilly bodice and frivolous cap sleeves of her ivory nightgown. She looked so much at home in this huge opulent bed. How Piper thought this woman was possibly going to acclimatize to the ship was beyond him.

“All right, let’s wake her up,” Piper murmured. 

Fenris tore his gaze away from the soot-dark crescents of Rynne’s eyelashes. He frowned at Piper. “Be subtle–”

His warning came too late. She shamelessly crawled onto the bed and leaned close to Rynne’s ear. “Hey Rynne,” she whispered loudly. “Come see the motion of the ocean with us.”

Rynne yelped and sat bolt upright in the bed, and Fenris rubbed his face in total despair. “Piper,” he hissed, and he moved swiftly toward the door in case anyone came to investigate. 

“What the– _Piper_? Is that you?” Rynne’s voice was husky with sleep but undeniably pleased, and Fenris glanced back at the bed to find Rynne hugging Piper around the neck. 

Piper chuckled softly as she accepted Rynne’s hug. “Captain Mad Piper, at your service,” she whispered.

Rynne laughed as she released her. “What the fuck are you doing here? I didn’t – you – Maker’s balls, did you come for me? You got my letter in the market? Wh– why do you have shoe polish in your hair?”

Her voice was growing louder in her excitement. Fenris scowled at her. “Lower your voice,” he whispered harshly. 

She whipped around, and if possible, her joyful face lit up even more. “Fenris!” she breathed. She slid out of the bed, and to Fenris’s alarm, she hurried toward him. 

His heart did a strange little flip in his chest, and he took an instinctive step away from her. She stopped in her tracks, but the excited grin didn’t leave her face. “Oh, it’s lovely to see you again!” she enthused. “Did you come with Piper just to rescue me? My knight in shining armour. Or, er, a hooded coat, I suppose. But that’s just as good.” She batted her eyelashes at him.

Fenris frowned, and Piper snickered. “All right, love, let’s get you out of here. Escape now, chat later.” She moved toward the window and began uncoiling the rope and grappling hook that she’d hung at her hip. 

“Marvelous! Oh, isn’t this a treat,” Rynne chirped. “Let me just grab my bag…” She took a step toward a polished wood wardrobe at the far side of the room, but before she could go any further, Fenris held up a hand.

“You need to be certain that this is what you want,” he told her bluntly. “There will be no returning to Kirkwall after this. We will be wanted for kidnapping you. If you leave with us, there is no returning to this life.” 

“Is that a promise?” Rynne said. “I hope that’s a promise.”

Her tone was bolshy and her smile was wide, but there was something intense about her eyes – something that quite reminded Fenris of the look on Piper’s face when she’d said she was fine. Whether or not she regretted it later, Rynne Hawke was clearly committed to leaving her life behind right now. 

Fenris stared at her for a moment longer, then lowered his hand. “Fine. But no bags.”

Her eyes widened. “But–”

“No bags,” Fenris insisted quietly. “We cannot afford the awkwardness or the weight.”

She turned plaintively to Piper. “But I wanted to pay you for the trouble, it’s only fair…”

Piper waved an impatient hand. “Oh, Rynne, fuck off with that,” she said. “You’re part of the crew now. And now we have to go.” She reached for the window to start pushing it open. 

“Hang on,” Rynne whispered. “Why don’t we take the stairs?” 

Fenris scowled at her, then at Piper. “I told you,” he muttered. “She is unable to handle the escape. What will she–”

“Fen, you know I think you’re the tits, but if you don’t lay off, I’m going to put a dead fish in your bunk,” Piper retorted. 

He scowled more deeply at her, and Rynne twisted her fingers together awkwardly. “I, um, was simply thinking if we take the stairs, and if I leave the front door and the front gate unlocked, maybe it’ll look more like I ran away instead of being kidnapped?” She looked askance at Piper and Fenris. “The only people with keys to the doors and the gate are the family and the staff.”

Piper tilted her head, then shrugged. “I mean, sure. That makes sense.” She looked at Fenris. “You all right with creeping through the fancy house and out the front gate?”

He shrugged bad-temperedly. Rynne’s plan wasn’t a bad one. “Fine. Lead the way,” he grunted. He waved gracelessly at the door. “If you see someone awake, cough, and we will hide until they pass.” He declined to tell her that he would incapacitate or even kill anyone who spotted them if he needed to. 

She giggled as she stepped past him toward the door. “So much intrigue! This is so exciting already.” She opened the bedroom door and peered into the hallway for a moment before looking back at Fenris and Piper.

“I don’t see anyone,” she whispered. “Not on this floor, at least.” 

Fenris and Piper followed her into the hallway, then down the grand curving staircase to the spotless main foyer, and Hawke quietly hurried over to a large closet near the front door.

“What are you doing?” Fenris hissed.

She didn’t reply, but a minute later, she emerged from the closet in a simple dark hooded cloak. A pair of keys dangled from her fingers, and she had shoes on her feet. 

The shoes had two-inch heels and polished silver buckles. Fenris frowned at them. “You cannot be serious with those.”

She widened her eyes. “They’re all I have! These are the least terrible ones I’ve got.” She wistfully eyed his bare feet. “I wish I could go without shoes, believe me. Knowing my luck, I’d probably step on some glass right away.” She shot him a coquettish look. “If I cut my feet, though, perhaps a certain handsome elf would have to carry me…”

Piper snorted very quietly, and Rynne grinned at her. Fenris scowled at the two women, then gestured roughly at the door. “Get on with it. Let us leave this blasted place.” 

“Hear hear,” Rynne whispered. She quickly unlocked the door and eased it open. 

Moments later, they were through the wrought-iron gates – which Rynne strategically left ajar – and striding through Hightown as quickly and quietly as they could. Fenris kept his breathing quiet and steady, but his heart rate was steadily climbing as they made their way toward Lowtown. They’d made it this far unscathed, but for some reason, his nerves only seemed to stretch as they moved further and further from the Hawke estate. What if someone awoke and found the doors ajar and sent for the Navy to investigate? What if someone came after them? 

What if Fenris was forced to kill someone who did not truly deserve it? Then his WANTED poster would actually be warranted. 

“ _Fenedhis,_ ” Piper hissed. “Up ahead.” 

Fenris looked. At the mouth of the stairs to Lowtown, despite the dead hour of night, there were two Navy lieutenants on alert.

“ _Kaffas,_ ” he muttered. He frowned at Piper. “This is unprecedented.”

She sighed and rubbed her forehead. “It’s probably because of us,” she whispered back. “The fucking WANTED posters. Someone must have snitched.”

“Oh no,” Rynne lamented. “Oh, I didn’t want you two to get in trouble for this – this is my fault…”

Piper shrugged carelessly. “Not your fault. They were always going to try and pin us down for something,” she whispered. She looked at Fenris. “Distract and conk them out?”

He nodded sharply, and Piper slipped away. A moment later, she bolted out of the shadows and directly toward the Navy men. 

“Thank the Maker!” she gasped in a Free Marcher accent. “Please, come quick, there’s been a burglary at the sausage shop–”

She continued to babble at the surprised Navy men, and Fenris turned to Hawke. “Stay here and be quiet,” he hissed. Then he slipped out of the shadows and snuck up behind the two men with his dagger in hand. 

He struck one lieutenant on the back of the head with the dagger pommel, then the other, and both of them dropped without a sound. Piper grinned at Fenris, but before they could take a step, a voice rang out from about fifty yards away. 

“Hey! Hey you! Stop right there!”

“Run!” Piper yelled. She darted toward the shadows and grabbed Rynne’s elbow. A split second later, they were all pelting down the stairs to the Lowtown market as fast as they could go. 

As fast as Rynne could go, in truth. Her impractical blasted shoes and the long skirt of her nightgown were clearly an impediment, and when she tripped and stumbled forward with a squeal of alarm, Fenris was not at all surprised. 

He grabbed her arm and pulled her upright. “Keep running,” he snapped.

She didn’t reply. She was gasping for breath, and Fenris mercilessly hauled her along the alley toward Darktown. 

Piper reached the dinghy before them, and she was already pushing it out to sea by the time Fenris and Rynne reached her side. 

“All right, crew, let’s get the fuck out of here,” she panted. She glanced up at them, and a smile split her face. “Ooh. You two got cozy real quick, hmm?”

“What are you carrying on about?” Fenris snapped. Then he realized why she was grinning.

He was holding Rynne’s hand. He must have grabbed her hand to support her during the mad dash down the alley. 

He instantly released her, and Piper’s grin widened. She deftly hopped into the boat, then held out her hands to Rynne. “Come on, love, get in here. Fen will push us off.”

“All right,” Rynne said breathlessly. She awkwardly stepped into the little boat with Piper’s help. Fenris shoved the dinghy into the bay, then grabbed the oars and began swiftly rowing them back out toward the Lady Luck. 

Rynne was fanning herself. “That was – Maker’s balls. I’ve never done anything like that before. I don’t know if I’ve ever run like that in my life. That was…” She fanned herself for another moment, then suddenly burst out laughing. 

Her laughter was bright and vibrant and completely joyful, and it sent an unexpected shiver of warmth down Fenris’s spine. 

He frowned at her as he continued to row the dinghy. “Lower your voice,” he scolded. “It will echo across the water.”

“Sorry,” she gasped. She covered her mouth demurely but continued to giggle. Then she started pulling off her cloak and shoes. “That was amazing,” she announced. “This whole thing – you two just showing up out of nowhere like that? I didn’t expect that. I’d stopped expecting you to get my letter at all, actually. I figured that merchant had probably swindled me, but I couldn’t check because my mother fired Flissa – she was my favourite handmaiden, we’ve been friends since I was twelve…” She dropped her shoes unceremoniously on the scummy floor of the dinghy and tucked her feet primly up on the bench. “Well. Anyway. She has a new job in a shop, which is probably better anyway than working at my family’s house, but I had no idea if you were coming. And then you came! And now…” She looked around at the broad expanse of the Waking Sea, and Fenris watched as her grin grew even wider. 

She pointed to the east. “Look at that. I mean, _look!_ That’s the start of a sunrise.”

Fenris glanced carelessly to the east. On the horizon, the faintest hint of pink was starting to beat back the navy blue of night.

Fenris turned back to face her. “You have never seen a sunrise?”

“Not on the open sea!” she exclaimed. “It’s beautiful.”

“It has barely begun,” Fenris said flatly. 

Piper playfully punched his arm. “Cheer up, Fen. Let the girl enjoy her first sunrise at sea. The first of many!” She smiled at Rynne and started unpinning her polish-stained hair. “Now I need to get this shit out of my hair. Pardon me while I take a little swim.” She winked at Rynne, then dove fully-clothed into the sea. 

Rynne laughed as Piper splashed about, then sighed happily. “Honestly, this is already fantastic. I don’t know how I imagined this happening, but it wasn’t like this. In a good way!” she added hastily as Fenris raised an eyebrow. “It went perfectly, didn’t it? No one saw me. No one saw _you_. They saw Piper, but they probably wouldn’t recognize her with the boot polish in her hair. And then that running through the market and – oh Maker, if they’d caught us? Oh, that would have just been…” She pressed a hand to her chest. “That would have been… such an adventure! I…” She trailed off once more, then shifted carefully toward the edge of the dinghy and promptly vomited into the sea.

Fenris gaped at her as she emptied her stomach over the edge of the boat. She straightened slowly and held one shaking hand over her mouth, then laughed. “Maker’s balls. That’s vile. I’m so sorry,” she said. 

Fenris briefly released the oars and rifled under his bench for a waterskin, then wordlessly handed it to her. She smiled behind her hand, then turned away self-consciously and rinsed her mouth before drinking a few gulps of water.

She offered him the waterskin back, but he shook his head. “Are you all right?” he asked. 

“Oh yes, of course,” she said airily. “Just, um, a little seasickness, I suppose.”

Fenris hummed equivocally. Then something terrible occurred to him.

He shot her a sharp look. “You are not pregnant, are you? That had better not be the reason you have run away,” he said forbiddingly. “If you are expecting to raise a baby on a pirate ship…”

She gaped at him, then threw her head back and laughed merrily. “Pregnant? _Me?_ Of course not! I’ve never even kissed a man, let alone – um. I mean.” Her cheeks instantly went bright red, and she started fanning herself. “Well, that’s fantastic. Rynne Hawke overshares with the handsome elf before we even reach the ship,” she said cheerfully. “I’m off to an excellent start.” She ducked her head and laughed nervously. 

Fenris didn’t reply. His tongue suddenly felt like it was stuck to the roof of his mouth. It didn’t surprise him that Rynne was a maiden; she was the unmarried daughter of a high-class noble family, and such things were valued in human high society. But for some unfathomable reason, Fenris’s wayward mind seemed to have taken this information and run with it, transforming it into inappropriate images of Rynne lying in that ridiculously opulent bed of hers while his tattooed hands slid the fabric of her ivory nightgown up over her calves, then over her knees and along her thighs, then… 

He cleared his throat. His ears were burning, and he dearly hoped she couldn’t tell. “Good,” he grunted. “A child on the ship would be less than ideal. We have our hands full dealing with Piper’s antics as it is.”

Rynne stared at him. Then a slow smile bloomed across her lovely face. “Did you just make a joke?” she asked.

Fenris huffed. “That will be for you to decide once you’ve been on the ship for a few days.”

She laughed. Her laughter was so brilliant and bright, like the sliver of sun that was now peeking over the horizon, and Fenris couldn’t help himself; he smiled faintly at her. 

Her cheeks turned pink again, and she beamed at him and tucked a stray loop of chestnut hair over her ear. Then Piper’s head popped out of the water beside the dinghy.

She briskly slicked the excess water from her hair, then hefted herself gracefully back into the boat and began wringing out her now-clean hair. “All right,” she said cheerfully to Rynne. “First things first, we’re going to get you settled on the ship. And then...” She looked at Fenris. “You don’t have to come. Actually, you shouldn’t come. I’ll bring Varric instead.”

Rynne tilted her head in confusion. Fenris, meanwhile, knew exactly what she had in mind. “No,” he snapped. “Piper, absolutely not. No, no—” 

“I said you’re not coming,” she said loudly. “You can look after the Lady Luck while Varric and I—”

“Er, what’s happening?” Rynne asked.

He ignored her and dropped the oars to glare at Piper. “You cannot honestly be this much of a reckless fool. We barely escaped the clutches of the law. Those Navy soldiers saw your blasted face!”

Rynne looked at Piper. “You’re going back to Kirkwall?” she said in surprise.

“No, she’s not,” Fenris snapped.

“Yes, I am,” Piper retorted. “I have to find out what happened to Cullen.”

Rynne straightened. “Commander Cullen?” she said. “Oh, I think—”

“You can find out without going back to Kirkwall,” Fenris snapped at Piper. “Send letters. Send a messenger. Send Varric on his own — he’s still a citizen of that cursed place! There is no reason for _you_ to go.”

Rynne gave them both a nervous little smile. “Actually, I might—” 

“Fen, I have to go,” Piper insisted. “I have to know what happened to him. If he got in trouble because—” She broke off and slowly combed her fingers through her hair, then smiled at him. “It’ll take half a day, tops. You can stay on the ship and help Rynne settle in, and Varric will smooth things over if I get into trouble, and I’ll be back on the ship before you know it.”

Fenris shook his head and opened his mouth to argue, but Rynne interrupted. “Actually, I don’t think you have to go back to Kirkwall,” she said loudly. “I know where Cullen is.”

Fenris and Piper looked at her in surprise. “How do _you_ know where he is?” Fenris asked.

“My brother Carver works for the Navy,” she said. “He mentioned that Cullen got transferred to some new post on the island of Estwatch. He was all pouty, saying he wanted to go with Cullen… if I didn’t know better, I’d think my baby brother had a little crush—”

“When?” Piper interrupted eagerly. “When did he get transferred?” 

Rynne tapped her lush red lips. “Um, he left Kirkwall maybe… less than a week ago? I think.” She looked hopefully at Fenris and Piper. “Is that helpful? I don’t listen to my brother half the time, but if listening actually paid off this time…”

Piper slung an arm around Rynne’s shoulder and shook her playfully. “Yes, it’s helpful! It’s perfect. Already helping out, and she hasn’t even set foot on the ship yet.” She wrinkled her nose at Fenris. “And _you_ thought she would be useless.”

Rynne looked at Fenris with wide eyes. “You thought I would be useless?” 

To Fenris’s vast annoyance, he could feel the tips of his ears turning warm again. He shot Piper a dirty look and picked up the oars once more. “Possessing one piece of helpful information does not prove your utility,” he muttered. 

Rynne blinked at him, then shrugged and delicately arranged the skirt of her nightgown over her legs. “Well, that’s all right. I am fairly useless. But I’m a fast learner,” she said cheerfully. “I can’t wait to start learning how to be a pirate! Like how to sail and how to, er, handle swords and such things. And looting. Is that the right term for taking other people’s things? ‘Looting’?” She perked up and smiled at them. “And sea shanties! Do you sing shanties on your ship?”

Piper couldn’t answer; she was doubled over in laughter, and Fenris scowled at her before answering Rynne’s question. “The others do, sometimes,” he said. “But not I.”

“You don’t?” Rynne said. “Shame. I bet you’ve got a gorgeous singing voice, if your normal voice is anything to go by.” She shot him another flirtatious look.

He grunted and focused on rowing the boat, and Piper finally caught her breath. “I like shanties,” she said. She wiped a tear of mirth from her face and grinned at Rynne. “I’ll teach you one as soon as we get on the ship. We can wake the crew up with our wonderful singing.”

Rynne grinned. “Ooh, that will be a good way to ingratiate myself to your crew. ‘Hello, I’m Rynne Hawke. I’m useless but I just learned this song, so wake up and listen while I sing it to you!’” 

She was laughing, and Piper was laughing with her, and Fenris frowned slightly as they neared the Lady Luck. He was of half a mind to tell Rynne that being part of a pirate crew was not all fun and games; in fact, it was primarily hard work and being on guard for any unexpected threats — especially given Piper’s tendency to steer joyfully into danger. 

But Rynne looked so cheerful. She and Piper were happily discussing sea shanties and trying to choose the most lewd one for Rynne to learn, and for some reason, Fenris bit his tongue. 

They pulled up alongside the Lady Luck near the rope ladder that led to the deck, and Piper rose to her feet with a grin. “Home sweet home,” she said to Rynne. “Up we go!” She swiftly scrambled up the rope ladder. A minute later, she threw down some ropes for the dinghy. 

Fenris swiftly tied the ropes to the rings on the bow and stern of the dinghy. Rynne, meanwhile, carefully found her footing, then took hold of the rope ladder and started climbing. But before she could climb more than three rungs, she looked worriedly back into the dinghy. “Oh, my shoes—” 

“You won’t need them on deck,” Fenris said. “In fact, I don’t think anyone will ever need those shoes again.” He jerked his chin at the rope ladder. “Go on.”

She smiled at him as she started to climb again. “You’re very bossy, you know,” she said. “I left Kirkwall so I wouldn’t have to be bossed around by some man, but I think I could stand to be bossed around by you.”

Fenris huffed and followed her up the ladder. “That will depend on what role is found for you. It remains unclear to me what Piper thinks you’ll be able to do.”

Piper tutted at him as she helped Rynne onto the deck. “Oh Fen, if you’re in love with our lovely Lady Rynne, just say so. No need to keep picking on her like a small child.” 

Rynne turned and grinned at him. “Why Fenris, are you in love with me?” She fanned herself playfully. “We only just met, but I suppose I could be persuaded to court you…” She winked at Piper, and the two of them cackled.

Fenris glowered at Piper. “I am not — _you_ are the childish one. You’re barely even taller than a child,” he added petulantly.

She wrinkled her nose and pointed at him. “Pouting. Bad flirting. _You’re_ the child.” She kissed Rynne noisily on the cheek, then scampered off toward the stern. “Going to wake up Dorian and Varric!” she shouted, and she disappeared through the door to the officer’s quarters. 

Rynne, meanwhile, was staring at everything on the ship with wide eyes. She clasped her hands in front of her chest and beamed at him. “Everything is so… ship-y!” she exclaimed. “I love those ropes.” 

Fenris eyed her suspiciously. “You mean the rigging?”

“Yes!” she said. “It looks very interesting. And important.” 

Fenris rubbed his mouth. This was hopeless. _She_ was hopeless. She didn’t even know the most basic things about a ship. How were they supposed to find something useful for this woman to do if she didn’t even know what the rigging was for?

“Hey,” Rynne said. 

Fenris looked at her. Her arms were folded, and her expression was matter-of-fact. “Don’t write me off just yet, not when I just got here,” she said. “I really am a fast learner.”

He raised a skeptical eyebrow, and she took a step closer to him. “I mean it, Fenris. I’ll learn anything. I want to learn. I want to… Maker’s balls, I want to do _everything._ I’ve just never had the chance.” She gazed up at the sails and the mast and the crow’s nest, and the smile on her face grew wider as she took it all in.

She rested her palms on the taffrail and gazed out toward the eastern horizon, which was painted now with myriad shades of rosey-pink and clementine. “I never had the chance,” she said softly. “I… this is my chance. I’m finally…” She sighed happily, then looked at him. “Now that I’m here, I’ll learn anything. I mean it. However you and Piper think I’ll be useful on the ship, I’ll do it.”

Fenris folded his arms. “Anything, you say?”

She turned toward him with a bright smile. “Yes! Anything.”

“What if we made you become the cook’s assistant?” he said. 

She nodded eagerly. “I’ve never cooked before, and I might burn everything at first, but yes!”

He lifted his chin. “If we tell you to swab the decks?”

She grimaced. “You mean mopping, I assume? Not ideal since I’m a slob, but yes. If it means I earn my keep, then I’ll do that.” 

He lifted his chin. “And if you must learn to slit a man’s throat?”

At his blunt words, Rynne’s smile transformed into a look of shock. He huffed and looked out at the eastern sky. “There is not a single person on this ship who hasn’t killed a man, and with skill,” he told her quietly. “Self-defense, raids on slaver ships, skirmishes over territory or loot… _This_ is a pirate’s life. Our crew is less murderous than most, but we are killers nonetheless.” He shot her a hard look. “This is what you have run away to. Is it not what you expected?” 

She was quiet for a moment. Then she took a step closer to him. “I’ll do what I have to,” she said firmly. “I asked for this. I knew what I was getting into when I asked Piper to help me escape Kirkwall. If I have to learn to… to slit a man’s throat, then I will.”

Fenris studied her critically. Her tone was firm, and her pretty face was anxious but determined. 

Then she smiled. “How do you teach that, anyway?” she asked. “Do you run dinner knives along each other’s necks for practice? Whose job is it to teach throat-slitting?” 

“It is mine, in fact,” he said. “I am the master-at-arms.”

She stared at him in surprise, then smiled more brightly still. “So _you’ll_ be teaching me?” she said. She looked more enthusiastic than ever. “How wonderful! Honestly, Fenris, I’ll be a good pupil. You can teach me anything.” 

_Anything?_ The thought rose unbidden from the deepest part of his mind — an unexpectedly ribald thought, accompanied by an unexpected and unwelcome fantasy of Rynne receiving some lessons of a very _private_ nature at his hands. 

He tore his gaze away from her lips and folded his arms defensively. Then, to his vast relief, Piper burst out of the officer’s quarters with Varric in tow.

“Dorian’s still in bed, the lazy ass,” she told Fenris. She skipped up to the helm. “Wake everyone up, will you?” she called down to Varric. “I want to get going.”

“Varric!” Rynne squealed, much to Fenris’s surprise. She hurried over to the dwarf and kissed his cheeks. “Oh, how lovely to see you! You can catch me up on all my favourite stories! Have you continued with _Swords and Shields?_ You know how long I’ve been waiting for a sequel…”

Varric chuckled and politely kissed her hand. “Lady Rynne. Funny seeing you here on our humble ship.”

“Humble, my ass!” Piper yelled from the upper deck. “This is the best ship in all of Thedas and you know it.”

Varric shook his head in amusement. Fenris raised an eyebrow at him and Rynne. “You know each other?”

“Of course!” Rynne exclaimed. “Everyone in Kirkwall knows Varric. He’s the smartest man in Kirkwall. His bookshop was my favourite place to hide until he ran off to join Piper.” She shot Varric a mocking little pout. “You left me alone with no one to spend time with.” 

He chuckled and patted her elbow. “Ah, it all worked out. Since you’re here, I’ll catch you up on your stories, I promise. Maybe even a sequel to that damned romance serial.”

She clapped her hands delightedly, and Fenris scoffed to himself. It seemed like he was the only one so far who was immune to Rynne’s charms.

Then Piper scampered over to join them. “All right, all right, we’re all friends and everyone knows each other and it’s a jolly good time, but I want to get a move on,” she said impatiently. She punched everyone in the arm — including Rynne, who exclaimed in surprise — then planted her fists on her hips. “Go wake up my fucking crew, you useless lot. I want to draw anchor and get out of here.”

“All right, all right,” Varric said affably. He sauntered casually toward the bow. “Where are we headed?”

“To Estwatch,” she confirmed. She folded her arms, and her expression was determined and fierce. “We’re going to find out what happened to Cullen.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CULLENNNNNNNNNNNNN?!?!?!  
> [shouted in the manner of Captain Holt from B99 yelling 'BONE?!?']
> 
> Follow our lovely artist and creator @schoute [here on Tumblr,](https://schoute.tumblr.com/) and yours truly [here!](https://pikapeppa.tumblr.com/) xoxo


	5. Estwatch

###  CULLEN 

**One week ago…**

Cullen rubbed a hand over his face. His cheeks were rough with stubble, and it occurred to him that he ought to shave before his dishevelled state drew attention from his colleagues, but he needed a moment to think.

He rested his palms on his desk and forced his weary mind to focus on everything he knew. Piper’s information about the illicit Darktown docks was just what he’d needed to start picking apart the mystery of how exactly the blood lyrium was getting into Kirkwall.

He had waited a respectable few days before acting on the tip Piper had given him. Then, without telling anyone of his plans, he had snuck to Darktown at the dead of night and waited by the filthy docks for something suspicious to occur.

It had taken two full weeks of nightly observation before he saw what he’d both been hoping for and dreading: a small dinghy containing a single Tevinter pirate, recognizable both by his gaudily patterned sash and by the soft Tevene song he was singing to himself as he pulled into the rotting docks.

Cullen had taken the man by surprise. With little more than a threat to bring him to the Gallows for the hanging that was now, harshly, the law, the Tevinter pirate told Cullen the name of the contact who picked up the blood lyrium and smuggled it into Hightown: a young elven woman by the name of Orana. 

The following day, after a very brief (and desperately needed) night’s sleep, Cullen began subtly investigating who Orana was. Elves in Hightown were one of two things: household help or merchant’s hires. If Orana was involved in the illegal trade of blood lyrium, it stood to reason that she was a merchant’s assistant rather than a household servant, so Cullen assumed that the girl was a shopkeeper’s helper. 

He began making short visits to the shops in Hightown. By presenting his visits as audits on his lieutenant’s patrols, he was able to subtly – albeit slowly – inquire whether someone by the name of Orana worked in any of the Hightown shops. 

With the demands of his other duties, it took three days before Cullen got the information he needed: Orana was an employee at Bodahn’s apothecary.

Cullen was dismayed at the discovery. Bodahn Feddic seemed a good upstanding citizen; he’d managed the apothecary for longer than Cullen had been stationed in Kirkwall, and he was the supplier for most of the Kirkwall Navy’s medicinal needs. He was also a devoted father to his unusual son Sandal, whose skills seemed to include an astounding mind for numbers but not much else.

Cullen was perturbed by the idea of the friendly and mild-mannered dwarf being involved in the illicit blood lyrium trade. However, after a visit to the apothecary and a bit of polite conversation with the garrulous Bodahn, the picture became clearer. 

Orana was in trouble. Her father had been sickly ever since the scarlet fever plague a few years back, and she needed money for the medicines that helped to ease his pain and give him sleep. 

She was under duress. She wasn’t the mastermind behind the smuggling of blood lyrium into the city, and neither was Bodahn, who appeared to be oblivious about the blood lyrium that was travelling through his shop before being passed on to someone else. 

With Rylen’s help and another week of careful investigation during his already-scant spare time, Cullen figured out who that ‘someone else’ was. Unfortunately, it turned out to be another employee of Bodahn’s: a dwarf named Dougal, who had started working for Bodahn about a year ago. Dougal had quickly gained Bodahn’s trust, and about nine months ago, right around the time when blood lyrium had started to make its effects known in Hightown, he’d taken over Bodahn’s duty of bringing the monthly shipment of medicinal supplies to the navy headquarters.

A shipment of medicinal supplies that needed to be signed off by Admiral Meredith Stannard.

This was the fact that was keeping Cullen up at night. He couldn’t arrest Dougal for risk of warning the person in the Kirkwall Navy who was ultimately responsible, and he was growing increasingly afraid that Meredith was that very person. 

Of course, it was possible that Meredith wasn’t the one at fault for the blood lyrium coming through the Gallows; she wasn’t the one to unpack the shipment of supplies, after all, so the person at fault could still be one of the lieutenant-commanders who was in charge of managing and tracking supplies. But with the changes in Meredith’s personality – her irritability, her seemingly endless energy, and her increasing anti-piracy zeal – Cullen was feeling less and less confident about Meredith’s innocence in all of this. 

The problem was confirming it. A growing number of navy officers were showing signs of blood lyrium use, and aside from Rylen, there was nobody in the navy that Cullen could fully trust. 

It didn’t help that Cullen largely lacked the ability to schmooze. He’d earned his rank through merit and hard work, not through social connections or charm, and frankly, he was glad of this fact. In Cullen’s opinion, the only way someone should rise through the ranks was by doing their job and doing it well. But his commitment to his duty meant he had few friends among the Kirkwall Navy, and for him to start chatting his colleagues up now would be highly suspicious. 

As a consequence, Rylen had been trying to talk to the others: careful, friendly conversations among the lower ranks to see if anyone was whispering about blood lyrium or where it was being procured. But after another painful week of waiting, Cullen still had no confirmation. 

The worst part of all was that his clandestine investigation was completely in conflict with his actual job. Meredith was as good as her word, and she’d asked him to take the lead in writing the anti-fraternization policy that she was hoping to run up to the Viscount by the end of the month. Thus, while Cullen had spent much of his days in Meredith’s office discussing anti-piracy laws in other parts of Thedas and changes to the current legislation, he’d been simultaneously spending much of his nights investigating an illicit drug smuggling ring that, when exposed, would undermine the very institution he was meant to serve. 

It was a precarious balance, and Cullen could feel it starting to crumble. Maintaining a neutral face while listening to Meredith’s passionate speeches about Kirkwall’s pirate problem and ‘that mongrel Mad Piper’, and keeping a benign expression while passing that vile Dougal in Hightown’s streets, and pretending nothing was wrong when more and more of his own lieutenants started showing signs of irritability and excess energy and brutal anti-pirate sentiment… 

In short, it had been a hellish month. And Cullen wasn’t sure he could maintain the facade of normalcy for much longer. Not that he was doing so good a job as it was, if his haggard and hair-studded face was anything to go by.

Just then, there was a knock on his office door. He straightened up and smoothed a hand along his cravat. “Enter!” he called out.

Rylen opened the door, and Cullen relaxed slightly. “Lieutenant,” he said with a nod. “I hate to ask, but could you fetch me a basin of hot water and a towel? I haven’t shaved in two days and I fear I must look a fright…”

He trailed off as Rylen quietly closed the door behind him. Rylen’s eyes were wider and more worried than usual, and a now-familiar leap of concern squeezed his chest. 

He ushered Rylen closer. “What is it?” he said urgently. “What is wrong?”

Rylen sat in one of the chairs in front of Cullen’s desk. “The other lads are getting suspicious,” he said quietly. “I… there have been some threats, Commander, and not very well-hidden ones.”

Cullen stared at him. “Threats?”

Rylen grimaced apologetically. “Yes, Commander. I’m terribly sorry. I tried to match the sorts of things they were saying, but I don’t think I was able to convince them–”

Cullen waved a dismissive hand. “Don’t apologize,” he said. “It is in no way your fault. If anything, the fault is mine for placing you in danger.” He rubbed his face and sighed. Rylen’s safety was yet another thing to worry about.

He lifted his face and looked Rylen in the eye. “I am sorry, Lieutenant. It was not my wish to drag you into… well, what appears to be something far more dangerous than I’d anticipated. I’ll change your patrols immediately – make sure you are not partnered with other lieutenants who might harm you.” He sat at his desk and pulled over a piece of parchment and a quill. “Tell me the names of the men who threatened you.”

Rylen winced. “I’m not sure… Commander, if my duties change right after they’ve threatened me, they may know you’re behind the questions. You are the one in charge of the duty roster, after all.”

Cullen paused, then lowered his face into his hands. “Maker’s breath,” he muttered. Rylen was right, of course. Changing Rylen’s patrols would only make him all the more suspicious. 

A fact Cullen would have seen himself if he was better rested. 

He lifted his face and met Rylen’s sympathetic gaze. They stared at each other in silence for a moment, then Cullen straightened in his chair.

He took a deep breath to clear his mind. “Continue your duties as usual, Lieutenant,” he said. “Withdraw carefully from your, er, social ties with those men who have threatened you.” He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Perhaps you should make yourself out to be something of a fool, so they will suspect you less.” 

Rylen smiled faintly and bowed his head. “Yes, Commander. Anything else?” 

“The names of the men who threatened you,” Cullen said. He picked up his quill. “I may not be able to bring them to justice right now, but I swear to you, I will.” 

Rylen bowed his head more deeply. “I… thank you, Commander.”

Cullen shook his head and dipped his quill in his inkpot. “Don’t thank me, Rylen. I placed you in danger. It is only right to prevent the threats from becoming reality.” 

Rylen nodded. But before he could give Cullen any names, there was another knock at the door. 

Rylen and Cullen locked eyes for a moment, then Cullen rose to his feet and opened the door. 

It was a messenger. “Commander,” she said with a deep bow. “Admiral Meredith wishes to speak to you in her office.”

Cullen ignored the anxious wriggle in his belly and nodded sharply to the messenger. “Tell her I will be there shortly.”

The messenger bowed again, but Cullen held up a hand before she could leave. “Bring me a basin of hot water and a towel,” he told her quietly. If he was going to face Meredith, he needed to look as normal and kempt as possible. 

She nodded and scurried away. Cullen closed the door, then hurried back around to his desk. “The names. Quickly,” he snapped. 

Rylen swiftly reeled off the names of five lower-ranked navy soldiers. By the time the messenger returned, Rylen had left to return to his duties, and Cullen had managed to wrestle a fairly pleasant expression onto his face. 

He quickly shaved, then made his way to Meredith’s office. When he stepped inside, he was surprised to find her looking rather relaxed.

“Commander,” she said with a nod. “I have a new assignment for you.”

Cullen raised his eyebrows as he took his usual seat in front of her desk. “A new assignment?”

“Yes,” she said. “A new posting in Estwatch. The Viscount wishes to extend Kirkwall’s mercantile holdings toward the northeast. Estwatch is unclaimed. It is hoped that the island will make for a convenient trading port on the way in and out of the Waking Sea.”

With a great effort of will, Cullen forced his jaw not to drop in shock. He swallowed hard before replying. “The Viscount wishes to establish a trading colony on Estwatch?” he said, just to be completely clear. 

“That is correct,” Meredith said. 

Cullen’s mind was racing. Estwatch was a _terrible_ place to set up any kind of permanent colony. The land was mostly swamp and sand – a terrible foundation for building, and the main reason it remained unoccupied. In fact, based on the reports from incoming merchants, the only occasional occupants of Estwatch were pirates and other criminals who stopped there, ostensibly to store their stolen goods or if they were in desperate need of a port. 

He controlled his expression and delivered a very careful response. “Thank you for the honour, Admiral,” he said. “The Viscount has never wanted to branch out to Estwatch before. May I ask what prompted the change of heart?”

“The city is growing, Commander, and Kirkwall’s holdings must grow with it,” Meredith said. She folded her hands behind her back. “You will command a small crew to scout the island. Two cartographers and two scribes will accompany you. Map the island and determine where the outpost should be established. That is your goal.”

Her gaze was steady on his face, but there was a hardness there that Cullen didn’t like. It was that hardness that confirmed his suspicions: she was getting rid of him. 

And there was only one reason she could have for wanting to get rid of him. 

_She’s responsible for the blood lyrium trade,_ he thought. Rylen was getting death threats, and Cullen was being pushed out of Kirkwall… It was too convenient, too much of a coincidence. Meredith had to be responsible. It was the only explanation.

But Cullen had no proof. 

The injustice of it burnt in his belly, and it took him far too long to find a response. “This is a thrilling opportunity,” he said. “I am honoured that you chose me, but might I suggest someone with more experience in pathfinding and city planning, perhaps? As you know, my expertise is military–”

“All the more reason you should be jumping at this opportunity, Commander,” Meredith said. Her tone was harder now, and Cullen realized that he’d made a mistake in questioning her too much.

He clenched his jaw and bowed his head. “This is very true. I thank you for the chance to… advance my skills, then. When do I depart?”

“You will depart tomorrow,” she said. “Lieutenant Rylen will be your quartermaster. A large promotion, I know, but a worthy one, I think you will agree.” 

Cullen nodded again, but the anger in his belly was being diluted by worry. If his only loyal man was being sent with him… 

The realization was quick and ugly, like an unexpected punch to the face. She wasn’t just trying to get him out of Kirkwall. She was trying to get rid of him permanently. 

He inhaled carefully to calm the rising panic in his chest, then rose from his seat and bowed to her. “There is no one more worthy,” he said. “I will tell him immediately–”

“There is no need,” Meredith said. “I sent a messenger to inform him.” She sat at her desk and folded her hands calmly in her lap. “Focus on wrapping up any outstanding tasks here in Kirkwall before setting out tomorrow. I believe you had one last policy revision for me that was due in two days’ time.”

She was trying to keep him and Rylen apart. Cullen gritted his teeth, then nodded obediently. “Admiral,” he said, and he turned on his heel and left her office. 

By the time he’d returned to his own office, the panic in his chest had curdled back into anger, and it took a great deal of self-control to not slam the door. Instead, he quietly closed the door, then sat at his desk for a long moment before pounding his fist angrily on the surface. 

The _slam_ of his fist echoed hollowly through the office. Cullen exhaled heavily, then rubbed his aching temples for a moment.

_Options._ He needed options. Going over Meredith’s head to the Viscount wouldn’t work; the Viscount was an anxious man, incapable of making difficult decisions particularly in times of conflict, and as recent events with the anti-piracy legislation had shown, he was all too prone to cede to the strength of Meredith’s convictions. 

Defecting from the Kirkwall Navy… Cullen rejected the thought the instant it crossed his mind. He refused to abandon his duty, and in the face of this new problem, his duty was clearer than ever: Meredith’s guilt needed to be proven, and her corrupting influence needed to be removed from Kirkwall. 

But that left no options, really, aside from going along with Meredith’s nefarious plan. 

He closed his eyes and buried his face in his hands. He couldn’t think clearly; he needed sleep. It felt like he’d not fully recovered from the two-week stint of nearly no slumber when he’d been observing the docks in Darktown at night. Lacking the chance to sleep, however, he pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes and forced himself to think. 

He wasn’t sure how or when Meredith’s ambush would come, but he refused to take the eventual attack in stride. However, should worse come to worst, and if Cullen were… eliminated, he couldn’t bear the thought of the corrupt blood lyrium trade going on indefinitely. 

He needed someone to know. He needed this knowledge to be passed on in the event that he didn’t… return from Estwatch in a timely fashion. But who could he pass this information on to? Who would actually take it seriously and act on it in a decisive fashion? The Free Marches had no singular leader. Any interference from the neighbouring nations of Ferelden or Orlais would be treated as an invasion. What other authority…?

Then it struck him. There was one authority that united the Free Marches, as well as almost every nation in Thedas.

_The Chantry._ Cassandra Pentaghast, the Divine Mother and head of the Chantry, was widely known as a paragon of justice and fair treatment. The Chantry was not supposed to interfere in earthly politics, but in Cullen’s opinion, this wasn’t a political matter. It was a matter of safety and justice. Perhaps if he laid the situation out as clearly as he could, she would send someone to investigate…? 

Cullen finally lifted his face from his hands. He gulped the cold dregs of tea from the cup on his desk, then pulled over a piece of parchment and a quill and began to write everything he knew: the involvement of Tevinter and their blood lyrium mines, Orana and Bodahn’s unwitting involvement and Dougal’s reprehensible role, and Cullen’s suspicions about Meredith, including the changes in Meredith’s behaviour over the past few months and how those changes seemed to be related to blood lyrium.

The only thing he omitted was the involvement of the Darktown docks. He’d made a promise to Piper that he wouldn’t tell anyone else, and that promise would remain unbroken even if his life was in peril.

An odd sense of loss swelled in his belly at the thought of Piper. It was unlikely he would see her again anytime soon, given his sudden and unexpected deportment to Estwatch. If things went badly for him and Rylen during this blasted trip, he might never see her again.

In the grand scheme of things, that didn’t matter. But for some strange reason, Piper’s cheeky grin remained at the forefront of his mind as he wrote.

When the letter was done, he rolled it into a tight little scroll and sealed it with wax, then placed it in his pocket for later. He couldn’t risk giving it to a navy messenger to take to the post; he would need to obtain help from an impartial party to get the letter to its intended recipient. 

He spent the day working on the blasted policy that Meredith had told him to revise. Once his work day was over, he made his way to the Chantry, ostensibly for a prayer before his trip to Estwatch. But when he arrived at the Chantry, instead of taking his place at a pew, he approached the nearest sister. 

“Excuse me,” he said politely. “Might I speak with Mother Leliana?”

Leliana was the senior administrator of the Chantry in Kirkwall. She was well-known in Kirkwall for her open-armed acceptance and for bearing wisdom beyond her years, and it was Cullen’s hope that she would be able to help him with his current difficulties.

The young sister nodded, then hurried away to the back of the Chantry. Cullen sat at a pew and waited, breathing slowly and savouring the peace and quiet of the Chantry while he still had the chance. 

His gaze drifted over the masterful stained glass windows and then to the grand statue of Andraste that stood in pride of place at the apse. Then his idle mind suddenly conjured an image of Piper’s irreverent grin. 

Despite his troubles, he smiled faintly as he thought back to her last visit to Kirkwall. There she’d stood, bold as you please on Andraste’s plinth and making scandalous suggestions while Cullen tried to convince her to leave, then plopping herself down on the pew beside him as though she was right at home, then rearranging her skirt to brazenly show the bronzed length of her thigh… 

He swallowed hard and forced his attention back to the statue of Andraste. He shouldn’t be having such thoughts in the Maker’s house. Besides, Piper’s legs weren’t the reason he admired her – or not the main reason, in any case.

She’d helped him. She’d come to Kirkwall, putting her life at risk to give him information to keep Kirkwall safe. If not for Piper’s tip, his investigation would never have gotten this far. 

The irony of it was terrible. Cullen was helping to write the anti-piracy legislation that could someday get Piper killed, yet Piper was the one who had helped Cullen in his quest for justice against his own commanding officer. 

“Commander Cullen.” A melodic voice pulled him from his tortured thoughts, and he rose to his feet and bowed.

“Mother Leliana,” he said. “Maker bless you.”

“And also you,” Leliana said with a small nod that somehow evoked a full curtsy. “It’s an unexpected pleasure to see you. How may I be of help?”

Cullen hesitated. The Chantry was far from full, but there were a few people praying nearby, and Cullen was reluctant to explain himself in their presence. 

Before he could ask to go somewhere more private, Leliana delicately placed her hand on her chest and cleared her throat. “Forgive me, Commander, but I find that I’m parched. Might I bother you to join me in the kitchen?”

Cullen’s shoulders relaxed slightly. “Certainly,” he said, and he followed her along the nave toward the southern transept, then through an unobtrusive door and into the private living quarters in the Chantry. 

He tried not to seem too curious as he followed Leliana. He’d never been in the non-public areas of the Chantry before. A minute later, he and Leliana were alone in a small and spartan kitchenette, and Leliana addressed him while pouring two small cups of water from a jug on the table. 

“Now, Commander, how can I help you?” She offered him a cup, and he took it with a nod of thanks.

“I have a letter of an urgent nature that I would like to get to Cassandra Pentaghast,” he said. He gulped half of his water, then grimaced apologetically. “I know it is an odd request – presumptuous, even, given how busy the Divine must be. But… you see, there is a…” He broke off as he realized he couldn’t quite explain to Leliana why he needed her help to get this letter out, not without admitting that something was wrong with the Kirkwall Navy.

He tried hard to regroup. Maker’s breath, he was exhausted. “I am being sent on a new assignment in Estwatch as of tomorrow,” he said. “I just found out today. I was hoping to… receive the Divine’s blessings before my journey,” he said carefully. “But since I will not be here to, er, receive them, I hoped you might… ensure she receives this, er, request for… blessings.”

He trailed off lamely as he handed her the letter. To his relief, Leliana simply nodded. “It is not a problem, Commander,” she said. “I am always happy to help the faithful to deliver their greetings to Most Holy.” 

Her voice was calm and soothing as always, and Cullen studied her face with a hint of curiosity. She’d barely sipped her water despite her claims of being parched, and her expression was pleasant and placid, despite Cullen’s regrettably obvious agitation.

Not for the first time, Cullen had the impression that the young Chantry mother saw more than she was letting on. He sighed and placed his empty cup on the table. “Leliana – Mother Leliana, I…” 

She gently patted his hand. “Do not be afraid. Divine Cassandra will receive your missives,” she said. “As for your journey, remember this: ‘blessed are the peacekeepers, the champions of the just.’” She smiled at him – a small, sweet smile. “You are a true peacekeeper, Commander. Let this knowledge sustain you during your journey.” She bowed to him. “Draw strength from your goals, and accept help in whatever form it takes. My unsolicited advice, for what it’s worth.” Her smile curled with a hint of mischief.

Cullen managed a smile, then bowed to her in turn. “You have my thanks,” he said. He followed her back out to the public area of the Chantry and gratefully accepted her blessing before heading home to the navy barracks. 

He spent the night packing and ruminating over the impending journey. He’d been too busy for most of the day to consider the logistics of what was to come, but with nothing to do now but pack, he was forced to face his unfortunate reality: after eight years of landbound duty in Kirkwall, he was being forced onto the sea once more.

He tried to ignore the heavy sense of dread as he packed. He pulled out the padded weapons chest from his closet, then started selecting a few smaller, non-navy issued weapons for the trip. He and Rylen would need to keep weapons on their persons at all times. Meredith might be determined to bring him down, but Cullen would not be going down without a fight. 

He slept very poorly that night, tossing and turning in his bed as ominous figures slid through his dreams and the screams of lost comrades rippled across his fitfully-slumbering mind. He rose long before dawn and used the spare time to exercise in his room, and before his colleagues had even risen, he was leaving the barracks and making his way to the navy docks. 

He wasn’t surprised to find that Rylen was already there. The lieutenant nodded politely as he approached, but his expression was worried. 

“Commander,” he murmured. 

“Lieutenant,” Cullen replied. He gazed into the bay, where their ship was being readied by a crew of busy sailors. “Are you prepared for this new opportunity?” 

“Yes, sir. Very excited, sir.” Rylen subtly shifted a hand over the hip of his navy-blue coat, and Cullen understood: Rylen, too, was armed beyond his standard-issue Navy sword and pistol. 

Cullen relaxed slightly. “As am I,” he said. “We’re fortunate to have been chosen for this honour.” 

Rylen nodded, and they waited silently for some time for Meredith to arrive. 

When the admiral arrived shortly after sunrise, it was with a pair of navy men in tow. Cullen straightened up and saluted her, but his stomach dropped as he recognized the men in her entourage.

“Admiral,” he said. “We are ready to board.” 

“Good,” she said. She gestured to the men at her sides. “You know Lieutenants Alrik and Varnell. They will be your officers during the journey and will assist you in your mission.” 

Cullen forced his face not to react as he nodded his assent. These were two of the men that Rylen had named yesterday. Of course Meredith was sending them along on this trip. 

“Good fortune in your journey, Commander,” Meredith said. “I will eagerly await your report.”

Her expression was as stern as always, and Cullen kept his expression equally neutral as he saluted her one last time. With Rylen at his side and Alrik and Varnell at his back, he climbed into the rowboat that waited to take them to the navy sloop.

He endured the short trip to the ship with a heavy heart. He climbed up the ladder, and for the first time in years, his booted feet landed on the deck of a ship. 

He quickly looked over the rigging as he made his way to the helm. “Man your stations,” he barked at the crew. “We depart in ten minutes’ time.”

The crew saluted him and scrambled to their respective positions. Cullen nodded politely to Varnell and Alrik as they made their way to the officers’ quarters, then turned to Rylen. 

“We will draw this journey out as long as possible,” he said very quietly. “They are unlikely to act against us until we land on Estwatch. Be vigilant for anything untoward.”

Rylen nodded sharply, then strode away to supervise the final preparations. Cullen made his way to the bow and studied the maps laid out on the table, and when the requisite ten minutes of preparatory time had passed, he stepped away from the table. 

He eyed the helm despondently, then settled his fingers around the handles. “Weigh anchor,” he yelled. “We set sail for Estwatch.” He watched carefully as the sailors pulled the lines and trimmed the sails, and as the ship slowly but surely began to pick up speed, he cast a quick glance back at Kirkwall.

The city was still dark at this early hour. The graceful silhouette of the Chantry rose proudly over it all, and as its familiar shape shrank away in the distance, Cullen couldn’t help but feel a creeping sense of dread. 

Inexplicably, his thoughts turned to Piper. He dearly hoped she would listen to his warnings this time and not return to Kirkwall. If she was caught when Cullen wasn’t there…

The thought sent a chill down his spine. Piper was a woman of surprising virtues, considering her propensity for mischief. But there was one virtue she lacked: caution.

If Piper wasn’t cautious, the city would devour her. And Cullen would lose his most unlikely ally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I repeat: CULLENNNNnnNNnNnnNnN?!?!?!?
> 
> Reach out to us if you like! I am [Pikapeppa on Tumblr,](https://pikapeppa.tumblr.com/) and our resident artist/creator Schoute is [here on Tumblr!](https://schoute.tumblr.com/)


	6. Scratches

###  RYNNE 

Rynne gazed sadly into her mixing bowl of gummy-looking mush, then winced apologetically. “I am so sorry, Merrill. I swear I did everything you told me to…”

The little elven cook tittered. “It’s all right, Rynne. You can try again tomorrow.” She whisked Rynne’s bowl of dough away and dumped it into a cast-iron dish alongside her own perfect-looking ball of dough.

Rynne leaned her elbows on the galley counter and sighed. “I still can’t believe you’re actually going to feed that to the crew. I’m rather shocked they’ve not yet been poisoned by my sorry attempts at cooking.”

“Waste-not, want-not, remember?” Merrill smiled as she muddled the two doughs together with a few brisk motions, then pushed the dish into the galley’s oven. “Don’t worry, my cooking was far worse than yours when I first started. _Elgar’nan_ , I could barely cook at all! But the last cook was so seasick all the time, and being seasick in the galley was a recipe for disaster — oh my, that was a good joke, don’t you think? A recipe for…” She trailed off and cleared her throat. “And I’m babbling again.” 

Rynne chuckled and straightened up to lean against the counter. “Babble all you like. It’s positively charming. And I’m happy to listen to any stories you have to share.”

Merrill beamed at her. “That’s why everyone’s so fond of you already, Rynne. You’re such a very good listener.” 

Rynne smiled, but in truth, Merrill’s statement made her a little bit sad. Everyone on Piper’s ship did seem to like her, but it wasn’t for her listening skills.

It was her looks. She’d been on the Lady Luck for two days now, and she knew the meaning of the roguish appreciative stares she’d been getting from both the men and women on the crew. A few of Piper’s people had even tried to chat her up with varying degrees of smoothness. Rynne had deflected their advances by making lewd and obviously non-serious advances in return that had drawn surprised and delighted laughter from the crew, who were obviously not expecting such a sassy mouth on a well-bred lady. Thus, in the space of two days, Rynne had earned herself a reputation on the ship for being a hilariously tongue-in-cheek flirt. 

She didn’t mind the reputation. She rather liked it, in fact. It was certainly a step up from ‘the Belle of Kirkwall’, which was the supposedly-complimentary nickname she’d lived under since she was seventeen years old. But even with her attempts at humour, she could tell that the crew were treating her differently, like a pretty little guest to be coddled and catered to rather than as one of them, and she desperately wanted to shed the mystique of her Hightown breeding.

Merrill broke her from her reverie by waving her over. “Come now and stir this pot of stew. That’s something that even a child could do!” Then her face fell in dismay. “Not that you’re — oh, that sounded rude and I didn’t mean to be…” 

Rynne smiled at Merrill’s pinkening cheeks. “Please, don’t apologize! I should hope I can stir a pot without fucking that up.” _Or else I’ll be as useless as Fenris thinks I am,_ she thought as she picked up a large wooden spoon.

Fenris was the only member of the crew she hadn’t yet managed to soften up a little bit. Every time she went to approach him, he seemed to be busy: combat training with the crew or training by himself, or patching up tears in his clothes, or meditating quietly at the front of the boat – _no,_ she reminded herself, _the bow, not the front_. The few times she had tried to strike up a conversation with him, he’d made some excuse to get away from her, and Rynne wasn’t sure how to fix the problem. 

She knew he thought she shouldn’t be here. But how was she supposed to prove him wrong if he refused to spend any time with her?

She mentally shrugged off her concerns. _I’ll just keep trying,_ she thought. Eventually that handsome broody pirate would have to spend time with her, especially if he was going to teach her how to slit throats like he’d said he would. Besides, there were only so many places on a ship that he could escape to, right?

“Rynne! Scrape the bottom, scrape it quickly, oh–” Merrill hurried over and pulled the spoon from Rynne’s hand, then frantically began dipping the spoon down to the bottom of the pot and scraping the burnt-up bits from the bottom. 

Rynne groaned and covered her face with her hands. “Maker’s bloody balls. I’m sorry, Merrill, I’m sorry–”

“No no, no worries,” Merrill panted. She threw Rynne a distracted smile over her shoulder. “I think I can do the rest on my own, though. Why don’t you go and see if Dorian needs any help before supper?” 

Rynne ignored the little pang of disappointment in her chest. She’d already tried to help Dorian with his navigation tasks earlier today. Although she’d enjoyed discussing cartography with the Tevinter pilot, Varric had ultimately decided that navigation wasn’t the best fit for her when her lesson with Dorian devolved from a serious study of their current maps to an impromptu session of diamondback and gossip. 

It wouldn’t do to tell that to Merrill, though. Clearly Rynne was getting in the cook’s way, and if Rynne admitted that she wasn’t allowed to distract Dorian anymore, then Merrill would feel guilty and insist she stay.

“All right,” she said affably. She pushed away from the table and playfully curtsied to Merrill, then left the galley chased by Merrill’s adorable giggle. 

She wandered along the deck toward the crew’s quarters. She might be having trouble finding her place on the ship, but she had one idea for how to make herself fit in more easily. 

It was an idea she’d often fantasized about in Kirkwall, especially when her mother was being particularly tyrannical. Leandra had very specific ideas for how her only remaining daughter should look: how she should dress, what shoes and what shade of lipstick were appropriate for an eligible young lady to wear, the way she should wear her hair in order to attract the finest husband.

Well, Rynne wasn’t looking to attract a husband anymore. She had blessedly little choice about what to wear; she’d borrowed a pair of Dorian’s fitted breeches and a billowy shirt and boots from Piper, and those were the clothes she’d be wearing until they looted a ship or hit dry ground to do some bartering. She had no cosmetics on the ship, so she was well shot of that problem. The biggest remaining factor, then, was her hair. 

Rynne’s hair was one of her best features. It cascaded down to the middle of her back in a rich chocolatey curtain adorned with reddish highlights when it was lit by the sun. It was thick and glossy with a slight wave, and it lent itself equally well to curls or updos or braids. And importantly – to Leandra at least – it completely hid Rynne’s scalp from view.

Rynne wanted to be rid of it.

It was this task – the cutting of her hair – that preoccupied her as she traipsed down the stairs to the crew’s quarters, then strolled through the space toward the small infirmary at the back. 

Anders was there, hunched over his work table and studying something by the light of a lantern. Rynne lightly rapped on a nearby wooden pillar to announce her presence. 

“Knock knock!” she said. 

Anders looked up with a distracted frown, but his expression cleared as he met her gaze. “Lady Rynne!” he said. “Are you all right?”

“Of course!” She smiled at the kind doctor. “I was actually wondering – oh my!” She broke off with a fascinated gasp as she caught sight of the item that Anders was studying: a veiny lump of flesh just a little larger than a fist, which was sitting on a cutting board on his table. 

Anders followed her gaze, and his smile brightened. “It’s a human heart,” he informed her eagerly. “I was able to remove it from a dead Tevinter after the last raid. It’s quite undamaged, you see, and… well, there’s so much we can learn from studying cadavers. I like to think they don’t go to waste after they’re dead.” He frowned slightly as he said this, and Rynne got the impression that he’d had to justify this kind of activity quite often in the past. 

“That’s incredible,” she breathed. She’d never seen a heart before, and she was curious to know more. 

Anders’s whole demeanour brightened even further. “It is!” he said. “Come closer, have a look, I can explain the chambers to you–”

“Oh, Anders, I – I would love to, but not right now,” Rynne said hurriedly. “I actually came to ask if I could borrow a barber’s razor from you.”

“Ah,” Anders said. “Yes, of course.” He pulled a razor from his desk drawer and handed it to her. 

He looked so downcast. Feeling slightly guilty, Rynne squeezed his forearm and glanced at the heart again. She really did want to know how such a small organ did the job of getting blood around the entire body.

“Can I pop round tomorrow, perhaps? You can explain it to me then,” she suggested.

Anders smiled. “Of course, Lady Rynne. I look forward to it.” He bowed to her from his stool. 

She waved dismissively. “Oh please, just call me Rynne. I ran away from Kirkwall to get away from the damned titles.” _Among other things,_ she thought.

The doctor’s smile widened, and he bowed his head again. “If you say so. Though you might change your mind about not being a lady after spending another week with this barbaric bunch.” He smirked at her. 

She laughed, then waved farewell as she made her way back up to the deck. Now that she had her razor, she needed to find a good location to cut her hair. Someplace with decent light. Ideally with a mirror or even two so she could see what the hell she was doing, given that she’d never cut her own hair before. But where would she find two mirrors on the Lady Luck–?

The answer was obvious. She picked up her pace and hurried to the officers’ quarters, then knocked on one of the doors. 

“Yoo hoo!” she sing-songed. “Anyone home?” 

“Enter if you dare!” Dorian called.

Rynne pushed open the door, and Dorian tutted playfully as she entered. “Back again so soon?” he teased. “What will our dear dwarven quartermaster say?”

“Nothing, if you don’t tell him I was here,” Rynne said smoothly. She hurried over to the dressing table where he was seated and bumped his shoulder with her hip. “Move, would you? I need to use your mirror.”

Dorian snorted and continued plucking his eyebrows. “And to think you were such a well-mannered young lady earlier today.” He adopted a humorous high-pitched voice. “‘Please, Master Pavus, will you teach me about navigation?’ And now look at you. Making demands and pushing me around…” He sighed dramatically, then snickered as Rynne pinched the underside of his arm.

“Come on, Dorian, your eyebrows don’t need plucking. They’re perfection already,” she said. “How can you possibly improve on something so close to the divine?” She smiled winningly.

Dorian burst into laughter. “You minx. Flattery will get you everywhere. The mirror is yours.” He rose from his padded stool and sauntered toward the door. “Try not to break any of my valuables, all right? I’m rather fond of all my many shiny pirate-y things.”

Rynne smirked as she sat on his padded stool. “No promises. I can be quite clumsy, you know. Especially with all this lurching of the ship…” She winked at him as she began to unbraid her hair. 

Dorian _tsk_ ed. “This is the last time I do you any favours.” With that, he slipped out of his quarters and closed the door. 

Rynne chuckled and picked up Dorian’s fine ebony comb. She carefully combed her hair, smoothing out the waves until it lay in a perfect curtain down her back.

For a minute, she stared at her reflection in the slightly-tarnished mirror. _The Belle of Kirkwall_ , she thought. Charming, well-mannered Lady Rynne. Quiet, sweet-natured Lady Rynne. Beautiful, well-bred Lady Rynne, who obeyed her mother’s every whim – and if she didn’t…

 _Fiery streaks of pain across the scalp._ The roots of her hair tingled at the thought, and Rynne shook her head slightly to dismiss it. 

She wasn’t the Belle of Kirkwall anymore. 

She pulled a long, glossy lock of hair over her shoulder and picked up Anders’s razor. She held the lock of hair taut and rested the razor’s keen edge along the dark chestnut strands.

She hesitated. Then there was a knock at the door.

Before Rynne could call for the visitor to come in, the door opened, and Fenris stepped inside. 

“Dorian,” he said brusquely. “The Captain wants to know when–” He broke off when he realized she wasn’t Dorian, and she couldn’t decide whether to be amused or hurt when he recoiled slightly at the sight of her. 

She decided to go with amused. She smiled at him. “Sorry, Fenris. No Dorian here. But I’d be more than happy to hear your news.” She turned back to the mirror and smiled at his reflection. “In fact, you can talk about anything you like. I could listen to that scrumptious voice of yours all day.”

His stern expression remained unchanged, aside from the graceful lifting of one dark eyebrow. Rynne suppressed a giggle and lifted her lock of hair once more.

“What are you doing in here?” he asked.

“Cutting my hair,” she said. “Or, well, I was about to when you interrupted.” She tossed him a cheeky smirk. 

He huffed and stepped toward the door. “I will leave you, then.”

“No!” she blurted. She twisted around on the stool to face him. “Please, if you – actually, I… I would like it if you stayed,” she confessed. “I could use the distraction.” In truth, cutting her hair was turning out to be more difficult than she’d thought.

Which was stupid, really. It was just bloody hair, for Maker’s sake. If she hated her haircut afterwards, she could grow it back. It wasn’t like this was a big deal. 

But somehow it was. For as long as she could remember, Rynne had always had long hair. Her handmaidens spent hours and hours pinning it and curling it and braiding it under her mother’s supervision. As a child, she and Bethany were forbidden to play too roughly in case their hair got tangled or dirty, and the few times Rynne had ignored her mother’s wishes and gone running in the yard with Carver, the punishment she’d received for spoiling her hair had been more than enough to make her pause before doing it again. 

She’d lived her entire life with long hair, and she hated it. So she didn’t quite understand why it was so hard to make this first cut. 

But maybe if Fenris was here to distract her with his handsome pouting lips and those big emerald-green eyes, cutting off her hair wouldn’t seem so fucking momentous.

He eyed her with some bemusement. “If it is help you want, then you should ask Anders. He is the barber as well as the surgeon.” 

“I don’t need help,” she said. For some reason, she felt like this was something she wanted to do for herself. “I need someone to talk to. And you’ve been avoiding me.” She shot him a mischievous grin. 

He scowled. “I haven’t,” he muttered. “I am busy. I have duties on this ship, as does everyone else.” His tone was slightly pointed, and his subtext was clear: everyone but Rynne. 

She sighed and picked up the lock of hair once more. “Believe me, Fenris, I’ve been trying to find something useful to do. I don’t think I’m cut out for being Merrill’s assistant, though, unless you’ve been enjoying the food from the past couple of days.”

He wrinkled his nose very slightly, and Rynne smirked. “Exactly,” she said. She idly twirled the razor in her fingers. “Anders said he would teach me about the human heart tomorrow, though.” She perked up. “Maybe I can be the surgeon’s assistant! Oh, that would be exciting. Imagine me sewing people up and stopping their bleeding and all that.” 

Fenris was silent. Eventually Rynne turned around to face him. “Don’t tell me you disapprove of women becoming doctors,” she said archly.

“No,” he said quickly. “It is not that. It…” He trailed off.

She frowned curiously. His arms were folded, and he seemed to be having some kind of internal struggle. 

She waited with growing impatience for him to speak again, but when he did, it was to change the subject. “Why are you cutting your hair?” he asked. 

“Because it’s impractical,” Rynne said easily. “Long hair like this? It’s likely to get mistaken for one of those many ropes up on deck.” She smiled cheekily at him.

He didn’t crack a smile. His frown was more curious now than annoyed, and finally Rynne sighed. “Did Piper tell you how everyone knew me back in Hightown?” she asked.

Fenris raised an eyebrow. “The Belle of Kirkwall, was it?”

His tone was very flat. Rynne nodded and turned back to the mirror. “Well, I don’t want to be that anymore. I ran away so I could be something else. Make a nice clean cut with my life before. What better way than to literally cut off my past?”

She kept her tone glib as she said this. If she made it sound like a whim, it wouldn’t feel so serious.

She picked up her razor once more and twined that fateful first lock of hair around her fingers to pull it taut. Then Fenris spoke again.

“You are fortunate,” he said. “Being able to cut away the signs of your past so easily.” 

She met his serious green eyes in the mirror. There was clearly more to his statement than he was letting on. 

He was right, though. It was just hair. It would fall away with the slip of a blade. It _was_ easy.

She stared at his gemlike eyes for a moment longer. Then, before she could stop to think about it further, she sliced the hair away.

The cocoa-brown lock of hair fell to the floor in a messy curl. Rynne stared at it for a second, then looked up at Fenris. 

“Shit,” she said. Then she burst out laughing – a hysterical laugh of apprehension and panic and undeniable relief. When she finally caught her breath, she met Fenris’s eye, and her lungs stalled once more. 

He was smiling. Very faintly, but it was a smile nonetheless, and it rendered him even more painfully handsome than his frown. 

She laughed again, more giddily this time, then boldly lifted another piece of hair and sliced it away. “What happens if I regret this halfway through, I wonder?” she said. “Perhaps Anders can tie each little hair back onto my head. That’s what doctors do, right?”

Fenris snorted and looked away. “You’re an idiot.” 

She grinned. He was pretending to be aloof, but she could see his smirk. “Only for you, Fenris. Only for you,” she purred. “Honestly, I’d say just about anything to make you smile.” 

He huffed again, and Rynne watched with pleasure as the tips of his ears started going pink. Feeling quite happy now, she turned her full attention back to the mirror and continued cutting her hair. 

When her entire head of hair was cut down to her shoulders, she lowered the razor to the desk and shook out her aching arms. “Well?” she said to Fenris, who was watching her in silence still. “How do I look?” 

He shrugged. “The point of this was to free yourself of the yoke of your former life. How you look is unimportant. How do you _feel?_ ”

She paused thoughtfully. He made a very good point.  
`  
She turned around and looked at herself critically in the mirror, then picked up the razor. “It needs to be shorter,” she said. She glanced at him. “I quite like _your_ hair, actually. Does Anders cut your hair for you?” 

He scowled slightly. “No,” he said. “I cut it myself.” 

Rynne raised her eyebrows. Fenris’s scowl deepened. “No,” he said bluntly. 

She grinned. “I wasn’t going to ask,” she said. It was only a little white lie; it had occurred to her to ask for his help, but she didn’t want him to think her more helpless than he already thought she was.

She continued slicing the hair away until it was just a few inches long all over her head. She left her bangs a little bit longer and spent a bit more time shaping them since she could actually see what she was doing.

When her bangs were done, she paused again and glanced at Fenris’s reflection in the mirror. He’d been leaning casually against a pillar with his arms folded, watching her in silence throughout the process. When she met his eyes, a little leap of excitement bloomed in her chest. 

He was unsmiling still, but his expression was pensive and a little bit soft. His eyebrows were slightly tilted, and a funny feeling of warmth wiggled through her belly at the hint of softness in his face. 

His frown gradually returned as she met his gaze, and Rynne’s heart started to thrum in her chest. After a long, tense moment, she decided to swallow her pride. 

She took a breath. “Fenris, can you – can you help me with the back? I’m – I hate to ask…”

She trailed off as his frown deepened. Then he unfolded his arms and stepped toward her. 

“I will help you this once,” he said quietly. “You will do it on your own after this.”

“Perfect,” she said eagerly. “That’s – yes, that perfect, actually. Exactly what I was hoping.” 

His frown lessened as he took the razor from her hand. “Good,” he said. “You need to be independent on this ship. You can’t be relying on others.”

“I agree completely,” she said, a little bit impatiently. She was the one who’d told him she wanted to be able to do everything, after all.

He pursed his lips and studied the back of her head. Then his fingers were on her scalp, and Rynne stopped breathing. 

He turned her head slightly and started cutting the hair away with brisk practiced cuts of the razor. A moment later, he spoke. “Am I hurting you?”

“No,” she said with some surprise. “Why would you think that?”

“You are barely breathing,” he said.

She exhaled slowly. She hadn’t even realized she was holding her breath.

She smiled at him in the mirror. “Maybe the touch of your strong swordsman's fingers stole my breath away,” she simpered. 

He huffed softly and sliced away another bit of hair. Then Rynne flinched slightly as his fingers pressed at a tender spot behind her left ear. 

He instantly withdrew his hands and set the razor on Dorian’s dressing table. “What’s the matter?” he demanded. 

Rynne grimaced. “There’s a… I had a scratch there,” she said vaguely. “It’s just a touch sensitive still.” She picked the razor up and offered it to him hopefully.

He refused to take it. “A scratch? From scratching?” he said sharply. “Is it lice? Because if you brought lice on a ship–”

She barked out a laugh of surprise. “ _Lice?_ Maker’s balls, no! No, it’s, er… it was, um…” 

He was looking more and more suspicious by the second. Rynne sighed in resignation. She would just say it as quickly as possible and get it out of the way. 

“When my mother was displeased with me, she would scratch me,” she said bluntly.

His eyebrows jumped up toward his hairline. “What?”

Rynne waved casually at her head. “She scratched me. My scalp. While brushing my hair at night. If I made her angry, she would drag her nails along my scalp. Sometimes until it bled, sometimes not. The scratches are hidden under the hair, you see,” she said sagely. “No one could see what she was doing. Aside from my handmaidens, of course.” She pointed at the spot behind her ear. “She scratched that spot the night you and Piper got me out. It’ll be fine by tomorrow, I’m sure.” She picked the razor up and studied her reflection. Honestly, she wasn’t sure if there was much more she could do for herself; it was looking much better already from Fenris’s few short minutes of work. 

A moment later, he reached over and gently took the razor from her fingers. Without speaking, he began trimming the hair at the back of her neck, only touching her head when he had to, and his fingers on her scalp were infinitely careful. 

She breathed slowly as he worked. She’d never told anyone else about the scratching – not Carver, not Bethany, not her father either. 

Fenris hadn’t spoken since she’d mentioned the scratches, and in some ways she was grateful; she’d only told him out of necessity, after all, and it wasn’t like she needed sympathy or anything like that. But she was starting to feel a bit weird about how many of her secrets Fenris was finding out.

He knew she was a maiden and that she’d never been kissed. He knew her mother used to hurt her when she was disobedient. In the space of three days, Fenris has learned more about her than anyone in Kirkwall had known in twenty-five years. 

It was his silence. That’s what was making her spill her guts. She’d never known anyone before who didn’t feel the need to fill silences with empty small talk. Kirkwall was full of small talk: polite inane talk about Lady So-And-So’s custom-made Antivan silk bonnet and Lord What’s-His-Face’s new racing horse and so on and so forth. The small talk filled her days, filling her ears and muddying her brain until she felt ready to scream. 

Fenris was different. He was nothing like the people she knew in Kirkwall. He spoke when he has something to say, and he didn’t waste his breath on useless pleasantries. 

And for some stupid, foolish reason, it made Rynne want to blather at him at length about the exact sort of inane nugshit that she usually hated.

With no small amount of guilt, she also realized that her excessive talking meant she knew very little about _him_.

She cleared her throat. “Fenris,” she said, “how did you come to join Piper’s crew?” 

He didn’t reply, and she surreptitiously eyed his handsome frown in the mirror. Eventually he replaced the razor on Dorian’s dressing table and met her gaze in the mirror. 

“I am from Minrathous, like Dorian. Unlike Dorian, I was a slave.” His expression was impassive as he spoke. “I was on a Tevinter ship. Piper raided the ship and freed the slaves — freed us. She offered for us to join her crew, so I did.” 

“Oh. Shit,” she breathed. His tone was very flat, and she eyed him apprehensively. Well, at least he was talking. 

“Have you… were you always a… on a ship?” she asked awkwardly. 

“No,” he said. He folded his arms — arms that were adorned with those elaborate curling white lines that Piper had said were tattoos of some sort.

She nibbled the inside of her cheek. He was clearly not enjoying this conversation, but he was still here with her. That was something, right? 

“Do you have family back in Minrathous?” she asked.

“Perhaps,” he said quietly. 

She frowned. That was an odd answer.

She decided to try a different tack. “Do you like being a pirate?”

He looked up at her with a frown, and Rynne waited with bated breath for his answer. He pursed his lips and glanced at the door, and she wilted slightly. She’d gone and said the wrong thing, it seemed; he was obviously a second away from leaving. 

Then he turned back to meet her gaze. “It is a better life than being a slave. It is… equitable,” he said. “Food and drink are divided evenly among everyone. The spoils of our raids are divided by rank, and rank is decided by vote. If the crew decided that we did not want Piper as the captain anymore, she would have no choice but to step down.” 

Rynne’s jaw dropped. “Seriously? That can happen?”

“Among pirates, it can,” Fenris said. “There is more to pirate law than that, but…” He shrugged. “It is a sad irony that the greatest justice can be found among those who are unequivocally branded as criminals. Literally, in some cases.” 

“Literally branded?” Rynne blurted in horror. 

He raised an eyebrow. “If that shocks you, you will need to train a stronger stomach, and soon.”

She blinked, then propped her chin on her fists and batted her eyelashes. “Well, a certain master-at-arms has been remiss in his duties of training a certain useless lady.”

He rolled his eyes, and Rynne could swear she saw the hint of a smirk at the corner of his lips. 

She dropped the coquettish pose. “You didn’t answer my question, though. Do you like it? Being a pirate?”

He eyed her shrewdly. “An odd question to focus on,” he said slowly. “Are _your_ actions always motivated by what you like to do?”

She laughed loudly. “Maker’s balls, no. Not until now. I never did anything I liked before I left Kirkwall. Well, that’s not true,” she amended. “I did run off to Lowtown that one time. I liked _that_ very much.” She gave him a knowing look.

He glanced away. Rynne grinned and leaned toward him. “You recognized me, didn’t you? That time when we met in the market. You remembered seeing me before on the steps.” She tilted her head and smiled teasingly. “You noticed me before, didn’t you? You thought I was pretty.”

He huffed. “I thought you didn’t want to be known as ‘the pretty one’ anymore.”

She laughed again. “Correct on all counts. Nothing gets past you, does it?”

He smirked, more openly this time, and an odd flush of satisfaction filled her chest at having made him smile. 

She cozily tucked her legs up on the padded stool. “You’re right, though. I really… I was looking for something different. Back home – back in Kirkwall, I mean – I never really felt like…” She trailed off as she tried to find the words to explain. 

Finally she looked up at him once more. “You know my family name actually came from the name of the bird, back in the day?”

He raised his eyebrows slightly, and she nodded. “My father’s family used to train hawks in the olden days, a hundred years ago or so.” 

Then she broke off as she realized she was doing it again. She was babbling at him, telling him some inane story that he hadn’t asked her to tell...

To her surprise, however, Fenris replied. “It is the same in Tevinter,” he said. “The sport is still popular among the wealthiest families. Those with the most gold to spare for useless pastimes.” 

She chuckled. “That sounds about right.” 

He smirked again. Then, to her even greater surprise, he picked up the razor once more and jerked his chin at the mirror.

She obeyed his wordless gesture and faced the mirror once more. As he resumed his trimming of her hair, she continued to talk. “The hobby eventually fell out of favour, I suppose, and my father’s family became merchants instead,” she said. “But the name ‘Hawke’... it always felt a bit strange to me.” She shrugged. “Out of place, maybe. It sounds a lot more… I don’t know. _Fierce_ than we deserve. My family is many things, but fierce and clever hunters we aren’t.” She laughed.

Fenris was quiet as he continued to cut her hair. After a moment of pensive silence, Rynne spoke again. “I feel like a Hawke now,” she said. “Not that I’m a fierce or clever hunter or anything like that. But… being here on the ship, out on the open sea with none of the… the social obligations, or the politeness, or the… the fucking fingers in my hair. I’m free. Free as a bird, so to speak.” She paused for a moment and rolled the word through her mind: _free._ She’d been trapped before, trapped in Kirkwall and trapped in the slowly tightening noose of that horrible match her mother had arranged for her, and now she was… free.

She nibbled the inside of her cheek, then chuckled. “Naturally, the only time my family name fits me is after I left my family behind.”

Fenris didn’t respond, and they sat quietly for another minute. Then he stepped away and studied her hair. 

Rynne looked at him. His face was neutral, and it was on the tip of her tongue to ask again if it looked all right, but she forced herself not to ask. Fenris’s words from before were true. It didn’t matter what it looked like. What mattered was how she felt, and that was absolutely clear: she felt light and unencumbered.

She felt free. 

She looked down at the heap of dark hair that was piled on the floor around her stool. Then she looked up and met his eyes again – those big, gorgeous, arresting green eyes.

She forced herself to take a breath. “Thank you, Fenris. Really,” she said. “I couldn’t have… well, I could have done this without you, but I would probably be bald.” She smiled. 

He smiled faintly in return, and once again, it sent a lance of fluttery warmth through her belly. He replaced the razor on the dressing table. “You’re welcome, Hawke.”

 _Hawke?_ An odd jolt of sensation swelled in her chest, like a mixture of nervous joy, and it melded strangely with the butterflies in her belly. 

She grinned at him. “Are you giving me a nickname?”

His smile fell away. He glanced at the door and folded his arms. “If you prefer ‘Rynne’—” 

“No!” she blurted. “No, I — I like it, actually. You can…” She swallowed. “Please, call me Hawke.” 

He met her eyes once more. His face was unsmiling and serious, and there was something about his gaze that was… piercing, almost. Like he was seeing something more to her words than she’d meant to say. Not that she’d intended to keep anything from him, really, though it would be too late now if she had.

And maybe she was imagining it, or maybe she was just overeager and woefully inexperienced. But the longer she looked at him, the more it felt like the air between them was growing thicker, swelling with an odd sort of anticipation that made her heart beat in her throat… 

She laughed nervously and ran a hand through her hair, then laughed again when her fingers unexpectedly met empty air at the nape of her neck. “Didn’t you, er – there was a reason you came to Dorian’s quarters, wasn’t there?” she asked. “Before I ever-so-rudely asked you to chop my hair off for me.”

His eyebrows rose, and he dropped his arms to his sides. “ _Kaffas._ Yes. The maps. _Venhedis…_ ” He tutted, then strode toward the door. 

Rynne wistfully eyed his departing back. He pulled open the door and paused. “Sweep up that hair before Dorian returns, or he will throw a tantrum,” he warned.

She smiled mischievously. “Or I could leave it on purpose just to see the show,” she suggested.

He scoffed. “It is not worth the momentary amusement, I assure you. His bark is worse than his bite, and I mean that as a threat.”

Rynne laughed, and Fenris smiled – a brief, fleeting flash of a smile. Then he stepped through the door and was gone. 

Rynne continued to chuckle as she turned away from the door. Then she studied her face in the mirror.

In almost every way, she was the same: same eyes, same nose, same lips, same pale skin that desperately needed some sun. But her hair… 

It was tufty and tousled, and her bangs curved fetchingly over one eye. The style was not feminine at _all_ , and her mother would probably faint if she saw it, especially if she knew an elven pirate had helped her to do the deed.

At the thought of that handsome elven pirate, a fresh jolt of happiness warmed her belly.

She smiled at her reflection. “Hello, Hawke,” she whispered to herself. “Time for a fresh start.”

###  PIPER 

Piper sat cross-legged on her bed braiding her hair.

Her fingers flicked skillfully along the slender lock of hair, whipping the strands from a loose wave into a tight little rope before sliding a wooden bead onto the end. She hummed to herself as she worked: one of the less scandalous shanties that the crew tended to favour when they were feeling mellow. 

When the hair along her left temple was entirely caught up in a row of fine plaits, she removed the wooden beads and undid the tiny plaits, then restarted the braids on the right side. 

They would be at Estwatch soon. This morning, Dorian had estimated they would be there by tonight if the winds were in their favour, and they’d been fortunate so far. Piper had insisted on taking the helm for most of the day, but when Varric had realized she’d not taken a break since just past dawn, he’d forced her to step away from the helm and get some rest.

She couldn’t rest, though. Not when she knew they were so close. Soon they’d be at their destination, and she’d find out why her Golden Boy had been transferred to the swampy shithole that was Estwatch. 

She forced her mind away from the negative thought. _A new assignment,_ she thought. That’s all it was. Cullen had been given a new assignment on Estwatch, and that’s why he’d been transferred out of Kirkwall after eight years of being the perfect goody-two-shoes by-the-book commander, even though Estwatch was an inhospitable dump that everyone ignored by unspoken agreement…

She sighed and ran her hands through her hair. Try as she might to distract herself, she couldn’t divert herself from the suspicion that something was very wrong. 

He’d been so tense the last time she saw him. Exhausted and worried, with dark circles under his eyes like he hadn’t slept in days. And now he’d suddenly been assigned to some bogus duty on an island that was so undesirable that even pirates avoided going there for more than a day if they could help it?

No. Try as she might to convince herself that Cullen was fine, the roiling in her gut told her otherwise. He was in trouble, and Piper knew why. 

It was because of her. 

She’d told him to go to Darktown. She’d given him a clue, and he’d gotten in trouble for pursuing it. It was only fair that she go after him now and make sure he was all right. No matter what Fenris said, she was responsible; she could feel it in her bones. 

Just then, there was a knock at the door, and Piper looked up. “Come in!” she called out. 

The door opened, and Fenris entered the room. Piper unfolded her legs and slid off the bed. “Finally!” she said. “What did you do, swim a lap around the ship before coming back?”

He grunted. “A small diversion. It was nothing.” He handed her the maps. “Dorian is on his way, but he said we should be–” 

“I see the island,” Cole said from just inside the door.

Fenris twitched slightly, and Piper bit back a smile. Fenris wasn’t scared of anything, but Cole’s oddly silent appearances always seemed to unnerve him. 

She waved Cole into the room. “How far out are we?”

“Four miles,” Cole said. His pale blue eyes drifted idly around the room as he spoke. “The island is loud. They cry for help, but by the time they’re there, it’s too late.” He tilted his head. “Quiet now, whispers instead of wails, but I hear it still.”

Fenris curled his lip, but Piper slapped Cole affably on the shoulder. “Good work. Pop back up to the crow’s nest and let us know if anything else of interest comes up, all right?”

“All right,” Cole said. He ambled out of her quarters. 

Fenris glared at the back of his blond head, then turned to Piper. “He could have stopped at ‘four miles’. Why didn’t he stop at ‘four miles’?”

“He never stops at ‘four miles’,” Piper said vaguely. Frankly, Cole could start reciting poetry backwards in Qunlat for all she cared. They were within sight of Estwatch, and that was what mattered. 

She’d be setting foot on the island soon and finding out where Cullen was, and that was what mattered. 

She punched Fenris in the shoulder. “Come on,” she said. “Let’s talk to Varric. I want to plan our approach.” She chivvied him toward the door, and a minute later they were on the upper deck with Varric, Dorian, and...?

Piper double-taked at Rynne. Her formerly-long chestnut hair was now a shaggy chin-length bob. “You cut your hair!” she exclaimed. 

“I did,” Rynne said happily. She ruffled her fingers through her hair and batted her eyelashes. “Am I pretty still? I rather hope not. That was the point, after all.”

Fenris snorted softly. Rynne grinned at him, and Piper noted with interest – and amusement – that he wasn’t looking at her. 

Dorian _tsk_ ed loudly. “She cut her hair in _my_ quarters,” he complained. “Imagine my disgust when I walk into my room, and what do I find? Why hello, a massive pile of hair on the ground – almost enough to take on a life of its own. My floor was almost as hairy as Varric’s chest.” He shuddered in an exaggerated manner. 

Rynne and Varric laughed, and Fenris rubbed his mouth. Piper rolled her eyes and shoved Dorian in the arm. “All right, all right, you’re jealous that your chest is as smooth as a baby nug’s butt, we get it. Now listen up, because this is important.” She pointed to the northeast. “We’re four miles out from Estwatch. Dorian, where’s the most hidden place to drop anchor?”

Dorian waved them over to the table just behind the helm, then pointed to a map. “Here,” he said. “The southeast tip of the island. It’s the worst part of the island – almost sunk in the ocean, and there’s a reef that spans more than a mile into the water. It’s the worst place to pull in, but the best place to approach unseen.”

Piper nodded. “So we would need to swim from the edge of the reef to the shore.”

“You would, yes,” Dorian confirmed. 

Fenris pursed his lips. “Dangerous,” he said. “What if we must escape quickly? The rowboats will be inaccessible.”

Piper twisted her lips. He had a point. If Cullen was injured and she needed to get him out–

 _No._ She refused to entertain the thought. It was going to be fine. Cullen was going to be fucking _fine._ They would be a little tiny bit cautious just to mollify Fenris.

“We’ll drop anchor more east than south,” she said. 

Fenris nodded in satisfaction, and Piper looked at Dorian once more. “Where does the reef taper off?”

He pointed to the map. “Hereabouts. You should be able to pull into the shore in that area.” 

Piper nodded, then looked up at her officers and Rynne. “All right,” she said. “Rouse the crew. Let them know to be prepared for a fight. One-third of the forces will come with me and Fenris. Varric, you stay here with the rest – guard the Lady Luck and keep her safe for me.”

Varric nodded, and he and Dorian strode away. Rynne grimaced at Piper and jerked a thumb over her shoulder. “Looks like I crashed this meeting uninvited. But since I’m here, er… when you go to shore, I suppose I should–”

“Stay in the crew’s quarters,” Fenris interrupted. “You are unequipped to fight. If the ship is boarded and the fight moves belowdecks, run down to the cargo bay and hide. And use _that_ with no mercy.” He nodded to the thigh-sheathed dagger that he had given to Rynne on her first day on the ship.

Rynne stared at him. “Do you think that’ll be necessary?”

“No,” Piper said loudly. “It’s just a precaution.” She gave Fenris an annoyed look. “Why are you scaring the poor girl? She’s only been here two days.”

Fenris scowled, but Rynne shot him a coquettish look. “He’s bossing me around because he cares. Right, Fenris?”

“Shut up, Hawke,” he muttered. He nodded briskly to Piper and shot Rynne a fleeting glance, then strode away toward the crew’s quarters.

Piper turned to Rynne with a grin. “Hawke, huh?” she drawled. Fenris had been on the ship for a year, and he’d never given anyone else a nickname. It had taken four whole months before he’d stopped calling Piper ‘Captain’, for Mythal’s sake. And in a space of two days he was calling Rynne by her last name, like some sort of adorable inside joke? 

Rynne laughed and ruffled her gamine hair. Her cheeks were tellingly pink. “You said it yourself – it’s a rather pirate-y sounding name, no?”

Piper laughed. “So it is.” She squeezed Rynne’s shoulder. “Now get that fancy ass of yours back to the galley and help Merrill out. The crew will really need feeding up if we’re going to hit the beach in a couple of hours.”

Rynne straightened up and saluted her. “Yessir! Er, Captain. Captain Piper? What do you–”

Piper laughed and shoved her away. “Just get the fuck down to the galley, all right? I’ll see you in a bit.” 

Rynne beamed at her and skipped away to rejoin Merrill in the galley. Alone at the helm once more, Piper wrapped her callused fingers around the handles and gazed off toward the indistinct shape of the island in the distance. 

_Soon,_ she thought. Soon she would be on that damned island, and she’d find out where Cullen was. And if anyone had harmed a hair on his handsome blond head… 

Fen’Harel spare them, because Piper certainly wouldn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DAMMIT CULLENNNNNnNnNnNnNnnnn XD
> 
> As always, feel free to squeal pirates at us! I am [Pikapeppa on Tumblr,](https://pikapeppa.tumblr.com/) and [Schoute](https://schoute.tumblr.com/) is our lovely artist and creator! xo


	7. Rescue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did some of you guys miss the previous chapter? I feel like you might have… I posted two at once last week! XD
> 
> Introducing Kaaras, an OC of [@dickeybbqpit on Tumblr!](https://dickeybbqpit.tumblr.com/) Schoute made [some GORGEOUS pirate art of him](https://schoute.tumblr.com/post/186239839822/keep-a-weather-eye-on-the-horizon-i-drew) and I decided I needed him on the crew LOL. Thanks for lending us your boy, Dickey!

###  PIPER 

The rowboat’s oars glided through the water with barely a splash. Piper crouched at the bow of the boat, her eyes narrowed at the shore as they glided closer to the southeast coast of Estwatch.

The navy sloop was anchored about a half-mile from the northwest end of the island. The make of their ship told Piper that she was expecting about thirty men in total: likely twenty actually on land, with the rest guarding the sloop itself. Here on the southeast beach, there was no one in sight, which was both a good thing and a bad thing. On the plus side, it meant the navy men wouldn’t see their approach. 

On the negative side, it meant they’d have to travel some ways inland or around the periphery of the island before meeting anyone, and that meant being farther from their escape route.

 _No one said we’ll need a quick escape,_ Piper reminded herself for the umpteenth time. After all, this could just be a normal navy duty and not something suspicious. It was still possible that Piper and the crew would discover Cullen and his men doing something normal, like recovering some of the pirate loot that was stashed on this swamp-ridden dump so they could restore it to its rightful owners. 

It was unlikely – extremely unlikely, if her gut instinct was anything to go by. But still possible. 

“What is the plan?” Fenris said quietly. 

She glanced at him. “We split up,” she said. “You, Sera, and four others will come with me; we’ll go along the eastern coastline. One archer and one swordsman will stay with the boat. Kaaras will take the rest along the western coast.” She turned to face the rest of her fifteen crewmen. “We’re looking for information for now, not to fight,” she told them. “Remember, gauge your actions based on Commander Cullen. If he’s fine, then don’t attack. Defend if they spot you, but don’t attack. If Cullen is in trouble, though…” 

“Hit ‘em where it hurts,” Sera finished. “Right in the dangle-bags.”

“Exactly,” Piper said. She looked at them all. “If nothing out of the ordinary happens, we’ll meet back at the boat in two hour’s time.” Two hours was about the time they would need to scout the island in full. 

There was a murmur of ‘aye Captain’s, and Piper nodded in satisfaction before turning back to the island. 

She idly ran her fingers over the pommel of her Orlesian épée. They would be pulling in to the shore in about two minutes. In two minutes, they’d be on the nasty island of Estwatch searching for Cullen to make sure he was all right.

In two minutes, after two long days of useless fretting, she’d finally be _doing_ something. 

Fenris spoke again, in a very quiet tone. “You will use caution when we find him.”

Piper shot him a sideways glance. “Careful, Fen. That almost sounded like you were trying to give me an order.” She smirked faintly to soften her words.

“I would not dream of it,” Fenris said dryly. “Not that you would listen even if I tried.”

“Damned right I wouldn’t,” she said cheekily. “Message received, though. You’d be sad if I died. Trust me, so would I.” 

Fenris scoffed, and Piper grinned at him as the rowboat softly slid into the shore. She was the first off the boat, and she planted her hands on her hips as the others clambered onto the squishy sand. 

“All right,” she said. She pointed toward the thick mangroves that covered much of the island. “Stick to the edges of the forest there for cover. If you’re spotted, try to hide rather than attack. If you have to attack, make them come to you.”

There was a general murmur of agreement. Piper turned to Kaaras. “Two hours,” she reminded him. 

The lanky qunari saluted her with his signature boyish grin. “On my honour as a pirate, ma’am.”

She smirked at him, then jerked her head to Fenris and her handful of fighters, and they hurried toward the edge of the mangrove forest and slipped into the shadows. 

Piper was utterly silent as she padded through the sludgy sand along the edges of the forest. Fenris and Sera were silent as well, though Piper noted with amusement that Fenris’s nose was slightly wrinkled as he padded through the mucky sand. 

Piper smirked. “Your own fault for not wearing boots,” she whispered. 

He sneered. “I don’t need them.”

Sera grinned and elbowed him. “Your face says ‘squish’,” she whispered. “Funny change from the scowl, that. Maybe get your precious feet dirty more often.” 

Fenris pursed his lips and didn’t reply. Piper shot Sera a tiny smile, and they continued in silence for some time. 

They made their way along the edge of the mangroves at a slow and measured pace, and Piper tried to ignore the buzz of agitation that was urging her to run. Much as she might not want to admit it, Fenris was right; their approach needed to be cautious. They needed to assess the threats so they could eliminate them with the minimum of losses, especially since this particular sortie was far from their usual acts of piracy. 

Piper knew that rescuing Cullen was not her crew’s usual fare. She didn’t let anyone stay on the Lady Luck if they weren’t halfway decent people, but the fact still remained that they were pirates. Each of them had their own special reasons for being on the ship, but they also all shared two common goals: to escape the poverty or indignity of a ‘law-abiding’ life on land, and to provide for themselves. No one had signed up with the intention of altruistically rescuing handsome blond Commanders in distress. This little mission didn’t involve any kind of payout whatsoever, so by all rights, there was no reason the crew should be doing what she said. 

She was lucky that the crew was so loyal to her and to the Lady Luck. It probably didn’t hurt that she’d promised to split her entire share of the loot across the crew for the next five raids, but still. 

Really, if Piper sat down to analyze her own motives, there was no good reason for _her_ to be setting out on this little rescue mission, either. Just as Fenris had warned, the risk was high and the payout was nil. But for Piper, being a pirate had never just been about the looting and the gold and the goodies. It had never just been about the sailing, either, though there was nowhere she loved being more than on the Lady Luck in the middle of the sea. 

Being a pirate was freedom. Being a pirate meant _giving_ people freedom. And if Cullen wasn’t one of the most trapped people Piper had ever met, she didn’t know who was. 

He hid it well, with his firm commitment to duty and to keeping Kirkwall safe. And Piper knew that his commitments were genuine and heartfelt. But there was also a reason she and Cullen had become unlikely friends, despite their opposing lives and his deeply-rooted suspicion of pirates – a suspicion that had taken her multiple Kirkwall visits to start to melt. There was a reason he always took the time to chat with her, to hear her stories in jail and to hear her out when she had information to share. 

Cullen was looking for a different perspective. He was seeking something different than the military life he’d always known. He might not have ever admitted it to her, but Piper knew him well enough to know this was true.

Cullen was a good man, and a lawful one. But unfortunately, what was law and what was good did not always line up. And based on their last encounter in the Chantry over a month ago, it seemed that Cullen was slowly – and painfully – starting to realize this himself. 

“Listen,” Fenris whispered. 

Piper stopped and held her breath. Sure enough, the sounds of voices could be heard up ahead along the beach. 

They sounded to be about thirty paces away. The speakers weren’t in sight quite yet, shielded by the mangroves that were also hiding Piper and her companions from view. All she could tell from the voices was that they were stern, and there were more than one. 

“Come,” she whispered. She, Fenris, Sera and their four companions silently moved closer until the voices became audible. 

“I act on the authority of Admiral Meredith Stannard by proxy,” one unfamiliar voice announced. “I hereby–”

“You have no right,” the second voice interrupted angrily – a very familiar voice, and one that made Piper’s heart rate instantly spike. 

_Cullen._ She pushed past Fenris so she could see, and her jaw dropped in horror. 

Cullen was on his knees with his hands tied behind his back – the pose meant for criminals about to be executed. Eight navy soldiers were arrayed around him, alert but at ease with their weapons sheathed. 

Cullen was staring up at his accuser: a grim-faced Navy man that Piper didn’t recognize, who was holding a piece of parchment in one hand and a heavy flintlock in the other. Piper listened in breathless horror as Cullen berated his captor.

“This is mutiny,” he railed. “This is utter injustice. This – it is a lie! _You_ brought that blood lyrium on board! Meredith gave it to you, didn’t she?” He struggled against the ropes around his wrists and glared up at the Navy man. “I will see you imprisoned for this, mark my–”

The grim-faced man struck Cullen in the face with the butt of the flintlock.

The blood roared in Piper’s ears. She stepped out of cover with her own flintlock raised. “Hey, assholes!” she yelled. 

All the soldiers turned to look. Behind her, Fenris muttered very quietly: “ _Venhedis._ ” 

She shot the nearest soldier directly in the face, then the second closest soldier in the chest, then flung the empty flintlock into the face of the third-nearest soldier as he came running toward them. The officer stumbled back with a cry of surprise and pain as the flintlock bashed his nose, and Piper dodged past him toward Cullen.

Behind her, she could hear her crew yelling as they engaged the rest of the soldiers. Another soldier lunged at her with his sword drawn, but she dodged smoothly around him, slashing his back with her épée as she spun along his side. He stumbled at the cut, then lunged toward her again.

Their swords met with a _clang_ of steel on steel. He shoved her back, using his weight to try and throw her off-balance, but Piper was well-used to such brutish tactics, and she was far more accustomed to fighting on sand than him. 

And unlike honourably-trained Navy men, she had no qualms about using that sand.

She dropped to one knee, grabbed a handful of sand, and whipped the sand into her opponent’s face. He gasped and stumbled back, blinded, and Piper sprang to her feet and booted him in the chest. She delivered a vindictive slash to her enemy’s gut as she bolted past him toward Cullen.

He was slumped forward on his knees – still upright but barely, with his head hanging low. She darted a frantic look around the beach as she drew close; all the other soldiers were either dead or engaged with the rest of her crew; Fenris was fighting two men at once, silently as was his norm but with a vicious snarl on his face.

She skidded to her knees in the sand beside Cullen. Fuck, _fuck_ , he was unconscious.

She grasped his shoulder. “Cullen,” she gasped. 

No response. She swallowed the lump in her throat and shook his shoulder roughly. “ _Cullen_ ,” she hissed, and she patted his cheek, noting idly as she did that his stubble was longer than she’d ever seen before.

He still didn’t rouse. She gritted her teeth, then pinched the juncture of his shoulder and his neck hard. 

His head jerked up with a grunt of discomfort. “Wha…?” 

Piper forced herself to breathe. “Hey,” she said. She stroked his cheek gently to make up for the pinch, and when he finally turned his head to look at her, she smiled.

“Hello, Golden Boy,” she purred. “Did you miss me?”

He stared at her, then blinked hard as though he couldn’t believe his eyes. “P-piper?” he said.

A slow, lopsided smile was lifting the corner of his gorgeous scarred lip. A nasty gash over his eyebrow was leaking a slow trickle of blood, and Piper’s heart swelled with an undeniable rush of tenderness as she wiped the blood away from his eye. Mythal’s mercy, he looked fucking _exhausted_. 

“Captain Mad Piper, at your service,” she confirmed. She shuffled around behind him and grabbed her Rivaini dagger from the strap at her thigh so she could cut the cruel ropes around his wrists. “Come on, let’s get you–”

Someone grabbed her dagger-bearing wrist. “Got you, you knife-eared whore!”

She ducked down toward the enemy’s hand and bit it _hard_. 

The man holding her yelped and released her wrist. Piper sheathed the dagger and grabbed her épée in the same fluid movement, and by the time her assailant lunged toward her again, she was on her feet with her sword raised. 

Their blades met with a cacophonous clash, and Piper met her assailant’s gaze. 

It was the grim-faced man who had struck Cullen unconscious. For a split second, Piper saw red. 

She snarled as their blades slid apart, then lunged at him in a fit of rage. He parried her thrust and pushed her back, then lunged at her in turn. 

She deflected his lunge and tried to wrest her blade away, but this man was larger than the others, and he pressed toward her with strong, hard swings and slashes. She backed away from him, deflecting his thrusts with both hands on her sword for extra support. The impact of each hit rattled up through her wrists, but she gritted her teeth and allowed the discomfort to fuel her fury. 

The grim-faced man surged toward her, and Piper dropped swiftly to her knees to duck the lunge, then swept her sword up along his side as she rose to her feet behind him. 

He stumbled, free hand flailing around to grasp his wounded side, and Piper bared her teeth. “Come along then, poppet,” she panted. “Try that again. I fucking dare you.”

He glared at her, his chest heaving for breath, then slowly and painfully straightened before lunging at her again.

Piper backed away once more, taking his slashes and lunges in stride to wear him out. When his flank and ribs were soaked in blood, she knew it was time. 

He grasped his sword with hands and lunged at her with a desperate roar. Piper dodged aside and grabbed his wrist, then smoothly slipped under his arm and twisted. 

Propelled by his own momentum, he flipped head over heels and landed hard on his back. Piper instantly kneeled on his chest, making certain to place a brutal pressure on his wounded side. 

She leaned in close to his ugly, sweaty face. “When you decided to take me on, you forgot one very important thing, mate.” She grabbed her dagger from her thigh sheath and laid it lovingly across his throat. “I’m Captain Mad Piper.” 

She split his throat with a swift slash, then spat in his choking face for good measure. Satisfied, she rose to her feet and ran back to Cullen, who was watching her with wide eyes. 

She slashed his bonds swiftly, then helped him to his feet. “Can you walk?”

“I – y-yes, I’m fine...” He took a faltering step then stumbled into her, and she braced herself against his muscular weight with a grimace. 

“Maker’s breath,” Cullen muttered. “I’m – forgive me, I – my head…”

“It’s fine, you’re fine,” Piper panted. She wrapped her arm around his waist. “Come on, Golden Boy, let’s get you moving.”

A moment later, Fenris was at her side. “Piper,” he snapped. “There are more coming. We need to run. _Now._ ” 

“ _Fenedhis,_ ” she cursed. “All right. How did we do?”

“Valorin is dead,” Fenris said bluntly. “Two others are wounded, but not badly. I sent them ahead to the boat already. Sera will cover our retreat.” He darted over to Cullen’s other side and took most of the commander’s weight.

“Damn.” Piper scanned the beach regretfully until she spotted poor Valorin’s body facedown in the sand, then glanced back at Sera. The archer’s ironbark bow was half-cocked, and she was doing a quick little shuffle-step to keep up with them as they hurried away. 

“Wait,” Cullen said blearily. “Stop for a moment, I must–”

“There is no time!” Fenris barked. “They’ll soon be upon us!”

“Come on, Cullen, let’s go,” Piper said encouragingly. “I’ve got your back, it’s all right–”

“I should be armed,” Cullen snapped. He pulled his arm from around Piper’s shoulders and turned around, swaying slightly as he did. “I cannot expect – expect you to guard my back without…”

He trailed off, and Fenris rolled his eyes in total exasperation. “ _Fasta vass._ Stubborn humans,” he complained. He shoved his own sabre into Cullen’s hand, then glared at Piper. “Get him moving. I will aid Sera.”

“Be careful, Fen,” Piper said seriously.

He nodded brusquely, then bolted toward the nearest dead navy soldier and started rummaging for weapons. 

Piper turned to Cullen, who was adjusting his fingers around the bloodstained sabre. “All right, Golden Boy, you’ve got your big sword now. Want to show me how you can use it?” She wiggled her eyebrows and tried not to show her worry. Cullen might want to help, but Piper wasn’t sure how much help he would be when he was having trouble running in a straight line.

“There’s no need for concern, Piper, I am very… very well-trained in swordsmanship,” Cullen said tiredly as they ran along the beach. 

She pressed her lips together. He hadn’t noticed the innuendo in her words or in his own reply. He really _was_ off his game. 

She reached out and took his hand as they ran. No harm in giving him a little extra support. 

Before long, the rowboat was in sight, and Piper’s frustration mounted as she spotted Kaaras and his company fighting a handful of navy guards. Another of her people was dead on the sand, but Kaaras and the others had managed to take down more men than they’d lost. 

“Come on, Cullen, almost there,” she said in the lightest tone she could manage. 

“Is that your boat?” he panted. 

“Yes,” she said. “Just have to fight off your little friends and then we’re home free.”

“If I may,” Cullen said. Then, to Piper’s shock, he bolted toward the boat. 

Piper gaped at him for a split second, then darted after him. Before she could do more than pull out her épée, he’d slashed the backs of two unsuspecting navy soldiers with Fenris’s sabre. 

Kaaras leapt back in alarm, then relaxed slightly as his eyes fell on Piper. “Captain,” he greeted, then spun on his heel to parry another soldier’s blow. “I’m ready to be well shot of this place, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” she bit off. “Just need to hang on a minute for Fenris and Sera...” She glanced back in the direction they’d come, relieved when she was Fenris and Sera running toward them. But Sera was shooting arrows every few steps, which boded poorly; that meant the navy soldiers were still in pursuit.

She turned back to her crew, and her heart leapt into her throat. Cullen was on his knees once more, and a navy soldier was crouching beside him. 

She ran toward him with her sword raised, but Cullen held up a hand. “Stop!” he yelled. “It’s all right, Piper, it’s–”

“It’s me, Captain Lavellan,” the soldier said hurriedly. 

Piper stared at him, then lowered her sword. “Rylen? I didn’t recognize you without the goose egg on your forehead.” She darted another look around the beach. The immediate skirmish was done, leaving them with a handful of dead navy soldiers, two dead crew, and four injured. 

_Fenedhis,_ she thought angrily. That was more casualties than she’d wanted. No point beating herself up about it now, though. 

She glanced over at Fenris and Sera, and was relieved to see them only ten paces away. “All right, crew, get your asses on the boat,” she barked. 

Kaaras began swiftly helping the injured onto the boat as Fenris skidded up beside them. “There are more coming,” he panted. “We couldn’t hold them off.”

“Bloody shite-nut tit-heads,” Sera swore. “Waste of arrows, waste of breath!” 

Piper grimaced at Fenris. There was a thin sheet of blood trickling from a shallow gash on his right shoulder. “Are you–”

“It is nothing,” he snapped. “Let’s move.” He grasped Cullen’s arm and hauled him to his feet. 

“Easy, Fen,” Piper said warningly. “He’s hurt.”

“No, it’s – don’t concern yourself with me,” Cullen said soothingly as Rylen and Fenris helped him into the boat.

Piper wasn’t remotely reassured. His speech was slightly slurred, and his bloodied face wasn’t nearly as sweaty as it should be, considering what they’d just been through. 

_He needs water._ Her anxiety spiked higher still as she looked desperately around the beach. Everyone was on the boat now aside from herself, Sera, and Kaaras.

“Sera! Get that tiny ass of yours on the fucking boat!” she barked. She jerked her head at Kaaras, and they began pushing the boat out into the sea. 

Sera leapt from the shore straight onto the boat, and Piper and Kaaras hopped on board as well, and a moment later they were rowing their way back to the Lady Luck. 

It was not a moment too soon. They were just over ten metres out from the shore when a handful of navy guards came running from the eastern side of the small island. 

Piper sighed in relief. With every strong stroke of her crew’s oars, they moved another two metres from the shore. There was little risk of getting hit by a bullet from the average navy flintlock at this range. 

She turned to face the crew. “Nice work, everyone,” she said. “We’ll celebrate the lives of our lost friends tonight. I’ll break open the casks of the good Tevinter wine.”

There was a general murmur of appreciation from everyone, including Fenris. Piper smiled at them, then carefully stepped over to the bench where Cullen was slumped forward with his elbows on his knees. 

She smiled at Rylen as she sat on the bench across from them. “You’re lucky to be alive, Lieutenant. I almost cut you in half.”

“I appreciate the restraint, Captain Lavellan,” Rylen said dryly. “I’m glad to be alive. We both are.”

 _I knew something was wrong,_ Piper thought to herself. _I knew it._ But she couldn’t feel any satisfaction with her instincts when Cullen was looking this unwell. 

He’d been silent since getting on the boat, and his head was hung low. With an ache of sympathy in her chest, Piper reached beneath the bench and pulled out a waterskin, then popped out the cork and offered it to Cullen. 

“Here you go, Golden Boy,” she said softly. “Drink this. Slowly.” 

He lifted his head and offered her a very feeble smile. “I can only pray that isn’t rum.”

She laughed. “Normal boring water, I’m afraid.” She gently brushed a stray curling lock of hair from his forehead. “Take it, you cheeky ass.”

His smile broadened slightly. He took a small sip from the waterskin and grimaced – likely from how warm it was – but he took another small sip, and Piper watched him carefully as she rifled under the bench once more. 

He was so pale, and his pallor only served to highlight the dark circles under his eyes. She swallowed hard, then handed a second waterskin to Rylen before turning away to look at her crew. The injuries were relatively minor, it seemed; the worst of them was a shallow slash along the length of Loranil’s ribs, and Sera had somehow managed to get herself a black eye, but the others were looking relatively unhurt as they sipped from their waterskins and – yes, a couple bottles of rum. They seemed in relatively good spirits, despite having lost two men on the beach.

Fenris was rowing the boat with three others, and his slashed right shoulder was slowly leaking blood with every pull of the oar. Piper stepped over to him. “Here, let me do that,” she said.

He shook his head, and Piper frowned. “Fen, let me row the fucking boat. Go put pressure on that wound.” 

He shot her an annoyed look, then relinquished the oars so she could take over. Piper sat on the bench and wrapped her fingers around the oar. “How many did we take down?” she asked.

“Eight dead, three wounded,” Fenris grunted. He pressed his hand to his wounded shoulder. 

Kaaras grimaced. “ _Vashedan._ It sounds like you ran into most of them. We took down five in total before you showed up.”

Piper pulled on the oar before shooting Cullen and Rylen a wry glance. “Hope you boys don’t mind us taking out your so-called comrades.”

Cullen silently rubbed his forehead, and Rylen replied. “I can’t blame you for your actions, seeing as you saved our lives,” he said. “Some of them were just following orders, Maker save their souls, but…” He shook his head. “Alrik and Varnell were dirty, that’s certain. I only wish they got their comeuppance.”

“They did,” Cullen said. “Piper killed Alrik. Fenris killed Varnell.” 

She looked at him. His face was still half-hidden in his hand, and it occurred to her that maybe he was angry at her about the navy soldiers’ deaths. Some of them were surely just following orders, after all.

She felt a tiny pang at the thought that he might be angry, but she pushed it aside. She didn’t regret killing them. If she and her people hadn’t shown up right when they had… 

A shiver ran down her neck at the thought. Those bastards dared to lay a hand on Cullen? She’d given them exactly what they deserved. 

A minute later, they pulled up beside the Lady Luck, and a rope ladder rolled down the side of the ship. Piper watched as Rylen helped Cullen onto the rope ladder. Then she took Rylen’s arm and pulled him aside before he could climb the ladder himself. 

“How did you get away from them?” she asked quietly. “If it turns out that you’re a double-crossing rat, you’ll get a blade to the gut, I promise you that.”

Rylen’s eyebrows rose, but to his credit, he didn’t flinch. “Cullen fought them so I could get away,” he said evenly. “They were ready to execute us both. Some trumped-up charge of treason.” 

Piper gaped at him, then laughed out of sheer surprise. “Cullen? Treason? That’s–”

“Completely false, yes,” Rylen said. “Seems that _someone_ didn’t like him poking around at things they’d rather leave untouched.”

“Is this about the blood lyrium?” she asked.

Rylen’s eyebrows rose even higher. “He told you about that?”

 _Shit,_ Piper thought. Cullen hadn’t told Rylen that she knew about the blood lyrium problem, it seemed. 

But then that meant... That meant that Cullen had kept his promise not to tell anyone about the Darktown docks. 

A fluttery burst of warmth filled her belly. She carefully bit back a smile and released Rylen’s arm. “I heard him mention it when he was yelling at those assholes back on the beach,” she said. It wasn’t a lie, after all. 

“Ah,” Rylen said. He sighed. “Well… I’ll leave it to the Commander to decide how much he wishes to tell you of that. May I…?” He gestured politely to the rope ladder, which the rest of her crew had already clambered up. 

She waved for him to go ahead, then followed him up the ladder and onto the deck. Most of the crew were milling around, sharing news and bustling around to get the ship ready to weigh anchor. Varric and Dorian were talking quietly nearby, and Cullen was sitting on a bench with Anders seated at his side, while Rynne was seated on another bench beside Fenris. 

Cullen was staring at Rynne with wide, bloodshot eyes. His gaze darted to Piper’s face as she approached. “What is – why is – did you kidnap Lady Rynne?” he blurted.

Rynne burst out laughing. Piper folded her arms and wrinkled her nose. “Well, that’s insulting.”

He winced apologetically. “You’re right. I – I apologize, Piper, that was…” He trailed off, then flinched slightly as Anders dabbed the wound over his eyebrow with a clean cloth. “I am sorry. That was… rude of me to… Maker’s breath.” He gently waved Anders off and lowered his head. 

Anders looked up at Piper with a frown. “He’s dehydrated and fatigued. He needs salts and fluids. And food. And sleep.” He scratched his chin. “Miracle he’s still conscious, really.”

He’ll get whatever he needs,” Piper said firmly. She turned to Varric. “Get someone to tidy up Valorin’s and Lia’s bunks. We lost them today,” she said softly. “Cullen and Rylen can take their bunks until–”

“No,” Cullen said suddenly. “I can’t, um. I… I would rather stay on deck, if it wouldn’t be an imposition.”

Piper frowned. “What? Why?”

Cullen ran a hand through his hair, which was starting to curl. Rylen took a small step closer to her. “The Commander has a… dislike of confined spaces,” he said quietly. 

_But most ships are confined spaces,_ she thought. Then she realized with a pang that this was probably one of the reasons he so disliked being at sea. 

She crouched in front of Cullen and gently patted his knee. “Take him to my quarters,” she told Anders. “He can have my bed until he recovers. We’ll figure something else out later.” The captain’s quarters were spacious with large windows; Cullen would likely be comfortable there.

“No,” Cullen protested. “Piper, I can’t, I don’t want to impose–”

She rose to her feet. “You’re on my ship now, Golden Boy,” she announced. “You’ll follow my orders, or we’ll throw you overboard.” 

He looked up at her, then sighed in defeat and allowed Rylen and Anders to help him to his feet, and Piper’s worry only increased. Cullen was usually so stubborn. To see him giving in so quickly…

She nibbled the inside of her cheek as Anders and Rylen took him away. Then Varric patted her elbow. “He’ll be fine,” he told her. “Anders will patch him up. In the meantime, uh… do we need to, you know, get out of here at speed?”

She looked down at him questioningly. Then Dorian spoke up. “What he means is if we should be worried about pursuit by that charming little navy sloop on the other side of the island.”

“Oh,” Piper said. She snorted dismissively. “No. We killed thirteen of their men on the island and injured three more. At most, they’ve got fourteen or fifteen able-bodied fellows left.” She shrugged dismissively. “They’re fucked. But let’s get moving anyway. This place is a shithole.”

Dorian snorted delicately. “I concur wholeheartedly. Swamps have never agreed with me.” 

“You didn’t even come off the ship,” Piper retorted. 

“I know,” he drawled. “Imagine how disagreeable I would have been if I had.”

Piper scoffed and pushed him back toward the officer’s quarters. Varric chuckled and wandered off toward the helm, and Piper turned toward Fenris and Rynne.

Her eyebrows leapt high on her forehead. Rynne was very carefully stitching up the wound on Fenris’s shoulder. More surprisingly still, he was _letting_ her stitch him up. He only permitted Anders to patch him up when his wounds were quite bad indeed – which admittedly didn’t happen often, but still.

Piper’s eyebrows rose even further as she watched them. Rynne’s frowning face was a picture of concentration as she pulled a curved needle and thread through Fenris’s tawny skin. Fenris’s serious gaze, however, was not on his own wounded arm, but on Rynne’s face. 

He glanced up and caught Piper staring, then scowled and looked away. Rynne looked up at his movement, then beamed at Piper. “Anders taught me how to clean and stitch a wound!” she said brightly. “He showed me how the human heart works, too! Fenris is my first patient.” She smiled proudly at him, then her smile faded into worry. “Maker, I hope this doesn’t leave a scar.”

He shrugged irritably with his left shoulder. “It doesn’t matter,” he muttered.

The tips of his ears were pink. He wouldn’t look at her or Piper. Rynne, however, was undeterred by his mood; she pulled another careful stitch and smiled charmingly at him. “Well, if it does leave a scar, never fear. All proper ladies are fond of battle scars.”

“I suppose I am fortunate, then, that you are no longer a proper lady,” Fenris said flatly. 

Rynne burst out laughing, and Fenris smirked very slightly before catching Piper’s eye and looking away again with a scowl. 

Piper wrestled her face into a supportive smile instead of the smug smirk that wanted to spill across her face. She wondered how long it was going to take before Fenris admitted his fondness for their lovely new crewmate. He’d never before admitted to liking, well, _anything_.

“That’s great, Rynne,” she said. “Anders needed a good assistant. Considering how much blood we spill, we’re a pretty squeamish bunch when it comes to putting it back where it belongs.”

“Oh, I’m not squeamish at all!” Rynne said. “Not about the healing bit, at least. Now the spilling bit, however: that’s a different story. We’ll have to see what happens when a certain handsome master-at-arms finally starts teaching me some fighting skills.” She shot Fenris a pointed look as she threaded another stitch through his skin.

He rolled his eyes. “ _Fasta vass,_ Hawke, be patient.”

“Oh Fenris, haven’t you realized yet?” she purred. “There isn’t a patient bone in my body.” 

He scoffed and looked away again. Rynne winked at Piper, and Piper smiled broadly at her before turning away. 

“Weigh anchor in two minutes!” she bellowed to the ship at large. “We head for Llomeryn, and tonight, we drink to our fallen friends!”

The crew called their assent and their approval, and Piper strode toward her cabin, throwing a quick wave of thanks to Varric, who was manning the helm.

She slipped through the door to her quarters. Cullen was sitting on the velvet-upholstered couch with a stein in his hands, and Anders was standing over him with his arms folded. 

He looked up and nodded at Piper. “Once he finishes that infusion, he can sleep,” Anders told her.

She nodded and squeezed his shoulder in thanks, then carefully settled herself on the couch beside Cullen. 

Cullen looked up at Anders. “What is in this infusion?” he asked.

“It’s a mixture of beer, fruit juice, elfroot, and some melted beef fat from the dinner drippings,” Anders said. 

“I see,” Cullen said slowly. 

Piper poked his arm playfully. “Secret pirate recipe. Drink up. It’s good for you.” She looked up at Anders. “Does he have any other injuries?” 

“Surprisingly few, all things considered,” Anders said. “Some scratches, some bruises that’ll be sore for the next week or so. It’s mostly the dehydration you need to worry about.” He folded his arms and eyed Cullen critically. “You’re lucky you’re not delirious, you know. I’d expect someone in your condition to be seeing dogs made of bubbles chasing their tails around a maypole made of wiggling caterpillars.”

Piper stared at Anders. “Well, that was a weirdly colourful example.”

“What can I say? I’m a colourful doctor,” Anders drawled. He nodded in approval as Cullen gulped down the last of his infusion, then looked at Piper. “More fluids,” he said. “Half a beer for every cup of water he drinks. I’ll check on him in the morning.”

“Thanks, doc,” Piper said. Anders tipped her a casual salute, then left her quarters and closed the door behind him. 

Piper turned back to Cullen. He was slumped on the couch with his head tilted back and his eyes closed. He looked tired but relaxed, and Piper contentedly watched the slow beat of his pulse in his throat for a moment. 

Then she cleared her throat and tore her eyes away. “I hope you’re not mad about us killing your navy mates today,” she said. 

He lifted his head and opened his eyes, and Piper pushed on. “Maybe some of them were just following orders, but they were bad orders. No one should have to follow orders that force them to do bad things.”

Cullen licked his dry lips. “And if you don’t realize the orders are bad until it is too late?”

Piper shrugged, then kicked off her boots. “Usually I get a gut feeling right away if something is a bad idea or not. But maybe I’m just lucky to have great judgment.” She grinned at him and folded her legs up on the couch. 

He smiled slightly, but his expression was sad. She sobered and tilted her head. “What’s wrong?” she asked softly. “Aside from the fact that your asshole comrades betrayed you and tried to kill you.” She grimaced. “Guess I just answered that one for myself.”

He chuckled softly, then ran a hand through his charmingly curling hair. “I am simply… astounded,” he said. 

She raised her eyebrows. “By what?”

He didn’t speak for a moment. Then he met her eyes once more. “I did not expect to survive this journey,” he said quietly. “I… truly, Piper, I thought… I thought I was going to die on Estwatch.”

A chill ran down her back at the very thought. She shifted slightly closer to him. “What, you didn’t expect a dastardly pirate to come and help?” she joked gently. 

“Truthfully, I didn’t expect anyone to help,” he said.

His voice was soft but matter-of-fact, and it broke her heart. To think he’d been on that awful island expecting to die, expecting no one to come to his aid even though he was just trying to do the right thing about the blood lyrium… 

He sounded so resigned. Worse yet, he sounded so lonely. 

She took his hand, but he spoke before she could. “Why _did_ you come?” he asked. “In fact, I – how did you even know where to come?”

“Rynne told us where you’d been posted,” she said. “Her brother told her.”

“Ah,” Cullen said. Then his eyes widened and he sat up slightly. “ _Rynne_. She – why is she with you? You didn’t say. Did she…” His eyes widened even further. “She ran away, didn’t she? But that means…” He frowned at her suddenly. “You returned to Kirkwall,” he accused. “Even though I warned you how dangerous it was?”

Piper laughed and ran her hands through her hair. “Oh please, when has a little danger ever put me off? All it does is add a little spice. A teaser, if you will.” She winked at him. 

His cheeks went pink, and Piper grinned at him, pleased that he was finally noticing her innuendo once more. 

He cleared his throat. “Well, I… that is – er.” He cleared his throat, then frowned at her again. “It’s not – you shouldn’t have… and to take a citizen of Kirkwall with you—”

“She’s not a citizen of Kirkwall anymore,” Piper interrupted firmly. “She’s a member of the Lady Luck now. Part of the ship, part of the crew.” She poked him playfully in the chest. “You could be too, if you wanted. I can always use a man of your… size.” She ran a salacious look along his body. 

His face turned bright red. “A kind offer, but I… I don’t think… not appropriate,” he muttered. He rubbed the back of his neck and leaned back on the couch to close his eyes once more. “It’s a lot to think about, and…”

She chuckled. “It’s all right, Cullen. I was joking,” she assured him. Although now that she thought of it… 

What if Cullen _did_ join the Lady Luck? She knew he felt trapped, even if he couldn't admit it. She knew that someone important in Kirkwall was plotting to kill him. What if he did join her crew instead of going back to Kirkwall? 

The thought of Cullen joining the Lady Luck spiked a silly little leap of excitement in her chest, but she forced herself to ignore it. Cullen would never join the crew. He was too rule-bound, too by-the-book. He might be willing to acknowledge Piper as a friend, but for Cullen himself to become a pirate… 

It was too far-fetched. Best to keep her statement as a joke. She patted his shoulder and rose from the couch. “You really should get some rest. Now–”

He opened his eyes. “Wait, please,” he hurriedly. “I…” He swallowed. “You needn’t leave.”

A rush of tenderness filled her chest. He must really have been feeling alone these past few days if he was asking her to stay. “I wasn’t going to leave,” she said gently. “I was just going to tell you to get that handsome ass off the couch and into my bed.”

Once again, a charming flush spilled across his cheeks, and Piper threw her head back and laughed. “Oh Cullen, not like that,” she chuckled. _Not anyway, at least,_ she added in the filthy privacy of her mind. “I just mean to sleep. You really fucking need it.”

“Oh,” he said blankly. “No, of course, I – but… er, no,” he blustered. “I – there’s no need. I will sleep here.” He settled back on the couch and yawned into his hand, then snugly folded his arms.

Piper frowned. “What? No. Seriously, you can use my bed.”

He shook his head. “Thank you, but no,” he said softly. “You have done more than enough for me. It would be dishonourable to steal your bed as well.”

She snickered. “Dishonourable? What is this, some kind of duel between Orlesian chevaliers?”

He didn’t reply. She looked at him quizzically. 

His eyes were closed, and his face was relaxed. He was asleep. In the space of about three seconds, he’d fallen asleep. 

She bit her lips to stop herself from laughing, then tiptoed over to her bed and picked up one of the many woven throws. She carefully arranged it over Cullen’s sleeping form. 

He didn’t move. Piper tiptoed around the room, fetching a quill and a pot of ink and the captain’s logbook before settling on the couch beside him to keep him company in case he awoke. 

She carefully tucked her feet up on the couch, then opened the logbook and prepared to write about the day’s events. Then she remembered that she hadn’t answered Cullen’s question: his question about _why_ she’d come to Estwatch in the first place. 

She admired his sleeping face. His breathing was deep and slow, and his colour was already looking better, though she suspected it would take more than a single night’s sleep to wipe away the dark rings beneath his eyes. 

The truth was that she’d come to Estwatch for the same reason that she kept coming back to Kirkwall. She carefully shifted the captain’s logbook to the floor, then edged closer to Cullen’s peacefully sleeping form. 

“I like you, you handsome silly human,” she whispered. “Very much, in fact.” She leaned in and gently kissed his cheek. 

He sighed quietly in his sleep. When Piper pulled away, there was the tiniest hint of a smile on his lips. 

She smiled to herself. She smoothed a lock of golden hair back from his forehead, then settled back on the other side of the couch and picked up her logbook.

Cullen would probably want to be dropped back off in Kirkwall once he’d recovered. But for now, he was here, and she would enjoy this time with him while she could. 

For now, Piper would enjoy a moment of peace with her Golden Boy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let’s all raise a bottle of rum to Schoute, who planned out the fight sequence so I didn’t have to do it! YOU’RE AMAZING BBY, LOVE YOU!! Xoxoxo
> 
> Find us on Tumblr! Schoute is [here](https://schoute.tumblr.com/), and I am [here!](https://pikapeppa.tumblr.com/)


	8. Crew

###  FENRIS 

Fenris pulled his shirt over his head, taking extra care not to jostle his wounded right shoulder as he did. The wound was inconsequential in the grand scheme of things, but the faster it healed, the more efficiently he could move when he was required to fight again. 

He sat on the wooden stool in his quarters and bent over the bucket of saltwater he’d hauled up from the ocean earlier this morning. Varric had assured him that they had enough fresh water on board for a quick wash, especially since they’d be docking in Llomerynn this afternoon, but Fenris didn’t like wasting fresh water for washing unless he was absolutely filthy.

He dipped a clean rag into the bucket of water. But before he could mop the grime from his neck and face, he paused and inspected the bandage that Hawke had wrapped around his wounded arm last night. 

The bandage was neatly tied and trimmed: just tight enough to stay in place but not too tight to cut off his circulation. It was tidy work; he’d give her that. 

Unnecessary, though. The stitches were probably not needed. The gash on his arm was long, but not particularly deep. But Fenris had barely had a moment to set foot on the Lady Luck before Hawke was suddenly beside him, wiping the blood off of his arm and dabbing the wound with Anders’s antiseptic solution. Before Fenris could even ask what she thought she was doing, she was chivvying him over to a bench and telling him she was going to stitch up his arm.

He still wasn’t sure why he’d allowed her to do it. Strange hands touching his skin, pulling thread through his flesh like he was some sort of… some sort of _experiment_ : it was something he would never grow accustomed to, no matter how benign the intent. He’d only allowed Anders to treat his wounds on two occasions – once when he’d first joined the Lady Luck, and once for a stab wound to the side – and both occasions were more than enough examination by the ship’s doctor for his liking. 

Anders was no better than the doctors Fenris had known back in the Imperium. His methods of study were just as corrupt. And now, if Anders was going to be teaching medicine to Hawke…

The thought gave him an odd pang of disappointment. Fenris hadn’t been sure how Hawke would fit on the ship, but he certainly hadn’t imagined her becoming Anders’s apprentice. 

He studied his bandaged shoulder for a moment longer, then began to briskly wash his neck and torso with seawater. _Perhaps she will be different as a doctor,_ he thought. She was already quite different from the other highborn humans he’d known, after all. She wasn’t arrogant, for one; in fact, she was quite self-deprecating, aside from her ostentatious flirts. Her sense of humour was unusually lewd for an upper-class maiden, and when instinct overrode manners, the curses that fell from her lips were as filthy as any common sailor. 

If anything about her bothered him, it was her bright-eyed naiveté. The delight she took in learning every new skill, and the enthusiasm she had for every new thing she saw… She seemed to think everything in the world was wonderful and interesting, including Fenris himself, and for some reason he wasn’t entirely certain of, this grated at his nerves. 

He wrung the cloth out in his bucket of water and wiped his face, then started cleaning his neck and shoulders. Just as he was finishing up, someone knocked on his door. 

He tensed. “Who is it?”

“It’s Rynne – er, Hawke!”

He tensed even further at the sound of her cheerful voice. He dropped the cloth in the bucket and hastily stood from his stool. “Don’t come in,” he barked.

She pushed the door open and poked her head inside. “Good morning, sunshine! What are you–” Her gaze fell on his bare chest, and her mouth dropped open. 

“I said _don’t_ come in,” he hissed. He turned away from her and fumbled in the chest in the corner for a clean tunic. 

“Sorry!” she blurted. “Sorry sorry, I thought you said to come in, I just wanted to see if you could, er, teach me some, um…” 

She trailed off, and Fenris warily glanced at her. Naturally, she was staring at the vivid white tattoos on his skin. 

He hunched his shoulders and glared at her. “Quit gaping at me. You look like a fish out of water.” 

She snapped her mouth shut and pressed her hands to her flushed cheeks. “I am so sorry,” she said, and then she burst out laughing. 

Fenris straightened and haphazardly shook out the sleeveless tunic he’d grabbed. “Entertained, are you? At least one of us is,” he snapped. 

“No, no, it’s not that,” she said. She was still giggling like a foolish child. “I’ve just – I’ve never seen a naked man before! Partly naked, that is, but still. I mean, well, I’ve seen my brother in a swimming costume, but it’s hardly the same, he’s my brother. But you – you’re –”

“I’m what?” Fenris demanded. He hauled the sleeveless tunic over his head, ignoring the pull of pain in his right shoulder as he did. “An elf? A slave?” _A victim of experimentation at the hands of filthy Tevinter doctors?_ he thought with growing anger. 

“No, you idiot,” she blurted. “You’re the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen.”

Fenris stopped and stared at her. Her face went completely red. “Oh bloody Maker’s balls,” she said, and she burst out laughing again and covered her face. 

_It doesn’t mean anything,_ he told himself. Hawke flirted with everyone. She’d been charming the entire crew with her shameless flirtation. Her words meant nothing. 

Never mind that she, too, was the loveliest woman he’d ever seen.

His ears were feeling distinctly warm. He tugged one ear, then folded his arms. “I hope there is a reason you came here, aside from disturbing me.” 

“Yes,” she wheezed. She delicately wiped a tear from the corner of one eye. “I was going to ask if you could start teaching me weapons today. You said you would, and I don’t need to meet Anders for another hour or so, so I was hoping...”

Her smile was hopeful and bright. Fenris shook his head in exasperation. “I can barely begin teaching you the basics of using a blade in a single hour.”

“It’s still something!” she said. She tilted her head and batted her eyelashes. “Please, Fenris? I’ve been looking forward to learning how to fight. Especially after what you all went through on Estwatch…” Her smile faded into a grimace. “That was difficult to watch. Even from this far away on the ship.”

Fenris huffed and looked away. “That was a minor skirmish. Commonplace.”

“I know,” she said. “And I need to get used to it, like you said. And I would really love your help.”

He met her eye once more. Her expression was as open and earnest as ever, but she looked serious for once. 

He unfolded his arms. “All right,” he conceded. “We’ll go to the deck. I will show you some of the different weapons we have on hand. It will take some time to decide what combat style suits you best.” He gestured with his right arm for her to step out of his quarters.

Another tug of pain rippled from his wound. He tried not to show it, but Hawke’s eyes widened all the same. “Oh no, your arm,” she said. She stepped closer to him and reached for his arm. “How is it feeling–?”

He instinctively shirked away from her touch. She pulled her hand back and looked up at him with wide eyes. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t mean to… I just wanted to check that it was all right.” She grimaced ruefully. “Actually, that’s the first thing I should have done. Anders will scold me. Is it–”

“It’s fine,” he said brusquely. “There has been no further bleeding, and it’s not hot to the touch. It is fine.”

She still looked worried. “Maybe you should take a few days before we do this weapons training lark, then,” she said. “Take it easy, give the wound some time to heal.”

He shook his head and ushered her out the door. “I have fought with worse wounds than this, in worse places. Let’s carry on.” He led her toward one of the racks of practice weapons near the bow, then slowed to a stop and began to consider the weapons in their arsenal. 

_A lighter blade,_ he thought. Hawke was slightly shorter than Piper and almost as petite, so a rapier or an épée like Piper’s would probably be best.

“How about showing me how to use this?” she said. 

He looked at her. She was holding out the dagger that Fenris had given her on her first day on this ship. 

“Ah. A fair point,” he said. He’d given it to her thinking she should use it to defend herself in case the Lady Luck was boarded, but he’d never actually shown her _how_ to use it. 

He took the dagger from her. “Short blades such as this can be used to stab or to slash. Many blades can be used for both. When we have time, l will show you how to recognize the primary use of a given blade.” He held up the dagger he’d given her. “This one is mainly for stabbing and parrying – for turning away an enemy’s blade,” he explained, indicating the narrow blade and fine point. “But it is double-edged. You could use it to slash or cut if you were hard-pressed.”

Hawke didn’t reply. Fenris frowned at her. “Do you understand?”

She looked up at him with wide eyes. “How do you know all this?”

He raised his eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

“I mean – well, you clearly know what you’re doing.” She nodded to the rack of weapons. “You know how to use all of these, right?”

“That is correct,” he said slowly.

She blinked up at him once more. “Do all pirates know how to use all the weapons?”

“Of course not,” he said. “Most people have a preferred weapon. Sera has her bow, Varric prefers the crossbow, Piper has her épée…”

“But _you’ve_ mastered all of them,” Hawke said. 

_Oh._ Now he realized what she was getting at. He folded his arms and gave her a flat look. “You want to know how a mere slave is competent enough with weapons to become the master-at-arms.” 

Her eyes widened. “I didn’t mean it like–!” She broke off and shot him an apologetic look. “Is it a terribly rude question to ask?”

He eyed her with some irritation, then sighed and unfolded his arms. “It is not an unreasonable question. I was a bodyguard in Tevinter for many years. I was forced to learn every type of weapon. My former master wanted me to be… impressive.” He looked away from her and idly flicked the dagger’s edge. He’d hated being Danarius’s bodyguard, but unfortunately, it hadn’t been the worst of his duties. That dubious honour was reserved for the lyrium mines.

Hawke hadn’t asked about that, though. And Fenris wasn’t going to volunteer that information himself. Even if she did ask, he probably wouldn’t tell her. If he hadn’t told Piper or Varric what he was forced to do at the mines despite knowing them for a year, he wasn’t very well going to tell Hawke. 

He glanced at her, then frowned at her sympathetic expression. “I don’t need your pity,” he said bluntly. 

Her eyebrows rose slightly. “Sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to, er, pity you. I was just thinking that, um. Well, it’s awful that you had to learn to do this,” she said, and she waved vaguely at the weapons. “But at least it’s come in handy. You’re the master-at-arms now – one of the most important people on this ship. It was shitty, what you had to do, but you’ve used it to your advantage. That’s good, right?”

He huffed. That was such a sunny spin to put on a terrible circumstance. “Yes, I did use it to my advantage,” he said. He idly ran his finger along the edge of the blade. “My weapons prowess was very handy when I killed my former master.” 

Her coppery eyes widened. “You killed your former master?” she said. 

He nodded. He flicked the edge of the dagger once more, then finally looked her in the face. 

“Good,” she said. 

He studied her serious expression. She wasn’t wrong; it _was_ good that Danarius was dead. It was one less monster in the world who abused his slaves and handed them over to the horrors of experimental medicine. And yet, Danarius’s death hadn’t brought the vindication that Fenris had always hoped for. 

Fenris was free. He was able to go where he wanted and to do what he liked. He’d been travelling with Piper’s crew for a year or so now, and nothing truly untoward had happened. Yet he still felt every day like he was waiting for the headman’s axe to fall.

He licked his lips, then held the dagger out to Hawke. “Hold it like this. Thumb over the fingers, never under. Keep the crosspiece snug to your hand.”

She did as she was told, and Fenris nodded. “This is called a forward grip. You can hold the dagger the other way as well, with the blade facing down. But we will focus on this for now.” 

She nodded and looked expectantly at him. “All right. Now what?” 

“Now I will show you the vulnerable points on the body,” he said. “If you are attacked, these are the areas you should aim to strike on your enemy if you are given a choice. If you’re desperate, then…” He shrugged. “Slash and stab wherever you must. But strategic strikes may help you conserve your energy.”

She nodded again. “Understood.”

He took a step closer to her and touched a spot just below the angle of her jaw, then ran his finger carefully in an oblique angle along her neck. “The veins in the neck here feed blood to your brain,” he said. “Stab a man here, and you will give him a quick death.” With his index finger, he drew a line along the front of her throat. “You can slash here and open the windpipe. But death will be slower and less certain. A man can recover from this wound if he is fortunate.”

She swallowed hard. Fenris watched the movement of her throat before lifting his gaze to her face. 

Her eyes were wide, and her cheeks were slightly pink. He frowned. “Don’t tell me this talk of death is bothering you.”

“No, no, not at all!” she said. She swallowed again. “Um, carry on. Keep, er, teaching me.”

He narrowed his eyes suspiciously, but pushed on regardless. He pointed to the left side of her chest. “The heart is here, as you know. An obvious vulnerable point, but difficult to hit through the ribs.” He lightly pressed his fingers to the base of her ribs. “Better to try coming in low and stabbing up beneath the ribs, here, in the hopes of striking a lung. Or simply focus on the gut, which is largely defenseless.” He quickly ran his fingers along the flat span of her belly. “The larger the wound you deal, the better. You won’t kill someone quickly this way, but you will wound them painfully. It may give you time to escape.” 

She didn’t reply. Fenris looked at her once more. 

She was nibbling her lush lower lip, and her eyes were closed. Fenris scowled at her. “Are you paying attention?”

“Yes,” she breathed. 

Suddenly he realized what was happening. He folded his arms. “Hawke, are you somehow finding this titillating?” he said flatly. 

She opened her eyes, and with a jolt, Fenris recognized the particular brand of heat in her bronze gaze before she buried her face in her hands. “ _Argh._ I know, I’m so embarrassed,” she said plaintively. “It’s just – you were half-naked, and now you’re touching me, and it’s–”

“It wasn’t my intention to be half-naked,” he said defensively. His traitorous ears were going hot, matching the traitorous heat that was taking root low in his belly. “You burst into my quarters uninvited. And I would train anyone this way.”

“I’m not saying it’s your fault!” she said. “I’m just trying to explain my, um, my… It’s just… you with your fingers on my – and I haven’t – M-maker’s balls.” She swallowed hard and fanned herself. “What I wouldn’t give for a glass of ice water. Or perhaps to throw myself off the edge of the ship. Are there sharks in this water? They could eat me and put out of my misery.” She laughed nervously and moved toward the edge of the ship. 

Fenris looked away from her and scrubbed a hand through his hair. He’d predicted that training Hawke in combat would be difficult, but he hadn’t anticipated _this_ being the difficulty. 

Truth be told, he wasn’t sure why he was even seeing this as a difficulty at all. So what if Hawke was inappropriately stimulated by his training techniques? It didn’t change the fact that she needed to learn to fight. When she was eventually caught in a fight, she would need to ignore her own panic in order to defeat her opponent. So perhaps her, er, _arousal_ was a good thing. A good practice distraction, if you will. 

If he was really being truthful, the problem wasn’t Hawke. The problem was Fenris himself. After all, Hawke wasn’t the only one whose reaction to all of this was inappropriate. 

He took a deep breath and cursed the heat thrumming beneath his own skin. He didn’t want to be attracted to her. He didn’t want to think about the husky sound of her voice or the silken warmth of her neck beneath the tips of his fingers. He didn’t want to admire the way she embraced every single experience with open arms despite having the most sheltered life that Fenris could imagine. 

He didn’t want to _want_ her at all. A lowly elven pirate desiring a highborn human? It was completely irrational. Far too much to risk, given that there was already a price on his head in Kirkwall for his connection to Piper. Not that he would risk it anyway, since Hawke’s interest in him extended no further than her wide-eyed interest in, well, _everything._

“Fenris! Fenris, look!” 

Her sunny voice was pitched high with excitement. He turned to look at her, and she threw him a brilliant grin and beckoned him over to the starboard taffrail.

He scowled. “We should continue training,” he complained. 

“I know, I know, but – quickly, quick, look!” She pointed at the water. 

He wilted in exasperation, then trudged over to the taffrail to join her. “What is it?” he grunted. 

She was avidly watching the rippling expanse of the ocean. “Wait for it,” she breathed. “I swear I saw…” She gasped and pointed frantically at the ocean. “There!” 

He peered into the water, then folded his arms. “It’s a dolphin.”

“I know!” she squealed. “Isn’t it incredible? They’re so much smaller than I imagined! I mean, I suppose we are quite high up on the ship here, but they still seem rather small. Not that that’s a bad thing, it’s – I – oh, isn’t this marvelous?” 

Hawke beamed at him, and he eyed her apprehensively until he realized why she was so thrilled. She’d never seen a dolphin before. Of course she hadn’t, having lived her entire life in Hightown. 

He relaxed slightly and rested his palms on the taffrail. “They are very commonplace here. Even more so at the mouth of the Rialto Bay,” he told her. “This will not be the last time you see them.”

“Really?” she said eagerly. “Can we get closer to them? On the rowboat, perhaps?”

“Yes,” he said. “When we’re rowing into the Rialto Bay, the dolphins often swim alongside the boats.”

Her face was completely lit up with excitement. _Kaffas,_ she was far too excited about this. And far too beautiful. 

He swallowed and jerked his chin at the water. “There is more than one now.”

She whipped around to look, then grabbed his bicep and gasped. “Maker’s balls, there’s a whole pod of them!” She laughed. “My father would be thrilled if he could see this.”

Her fingers were firm and warm on his arm. Strange hands on his skin – he didn’t like it. He should tell her to unhand him. 

“Your father?” he said instead.

She nodded. Her hand was still on his arm, and her happy gaze was still on the pod of dolphins. “He’s a naturalist,” she said. “He specializes in ocean life. Mostly plant life, mind you, but he’s very fond of the animals as well.”

Fenris regarded her with some surprise. A naturalist was not a very high-status position, at least in Tevinter, though the pay could be rather good.

“Is your father is well-known in the field?” he asked. 

“He’s an associate professor at the University of Orlais,” she said absently. Most of her attention was still on the sea. “He heads up their lengthier expeditions. We last saw him... oh, some six months ago when his ship docked in Kirkwall?” She finally released Fenris’s arm and leaned her elbows on the taffrail. “Well-paid he may be, but having an absent naturalist for a father doesn’t gain you very much social capital in Kirkwall high society, let me tell you. That’s where yours truly came in. Rynne Hawke, the Belle of Kirkwall, swooping in with all her charms to save the day.” She huffed ironically. “Guess my mother will have to rely on Carver to make her look good, now that I’m gone. She’s rather shit out of luck with that, unfortunately. My baby brother’s about as charming as an old leather boot.” 

Fenris frowned thoughtfully. Hawke was smiling still, but her smile was softer now, and there was a certain wistful tilt to her eyebrows. 

He leaned back against the taffrail and folded his arms. “Do you regret it? Leaving Kirkwall?” 

She laughed. “No. Not at all. I definitely don’t regret getting away from my mother, that’s for certain.” 

Fenris quietly studied her lovely profile. Her gaze remained on the ocean as she continued to talk. “My brother, on the other hand…” She twisted her lips and sighed. “We don’t really get along. But, well… perhaps I’ll see him around. He is with the navy, after all.”

“And your father?” Fenris asked. 

She smiled hopefully. “Maybe we’ll run into him during our adventures! He’s constantly travelling himself.” Her smile became a bit rueful. “If not, well... I’ve gotten rather used to his absence, truth be told.”

_Fortunate for you,_ Fenris thought with a hint of bitterness. Varania’s face crossed his mind: her dimpled smile and her big green eyes that matched his own. He had no idea what had become of his sister after she’d convinced that merchant from Qarinus to buy her from Danarius and take her away.

He leaned into the taffrail and didn’t speak. Hawke gave him a tiny half-smile, then looked out at the sea once more. “You know who I really miss, though? My sister Bethany.” She laughed softly. “She’d be horrified if she saw me now. She was the proper one – the _truly_ proper one. But I also think she would find it a bit funny to see me here.” She smiled up at him. “We used to read stories of mermaids and sea dragons and brave sailors. She wanted to be a mermaid, and I wanted to be a sea dragon. Neither of us wanted to be boring old sailors, but look at me now.” She laughed again. 

Fenris smiled faintly. Of course Hawke would want to be a sea dragon rather than a mermaid. 

“Is Bethany in Kirkwall with your mother, too?” he asked. 

Hawke shook her head. “She died three years ago. Scarlet fever.” 

He raised his eyebrows. He hadn’t known. “I’m… sorry.”

“Thank you,” she said softly. “It’s fine, though. It was some time ago.” She looked at the sea once more, and they stood in silence for a moment. 

Then she shot him a tiny smile. “I don’t suppose…” She trailed off and scratched her ear. “Do you remember when we met in the market for the first time and I bought that necklace?” 

“Yes,” he said cautiously.

She nibbled the inside of her cheek before speaking again. “I, um, gave you my choker to hold. A red ribbon choker. I forgot to get it back from you before Cullen made me go home. It, er…” She swallowed hard. “It was my sister’s favourite hair ribbon. I don’t… I don’t suppose you still have it?”

Fenris stared at her. It was on the tip of his tongue to deny it, to say he didn’t know what she spoke of or that he’d thrown it away or some other excuse. But her eyes were so wide and hopeful, and her sister was dead…

He gritted his teeth. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the satin ribbon, then silently handed it to her.

Her jaw dropped. She carefully took the ribbon from his hand. “You kept it,” she said softly. 

He shrugged and folded his arms. “I didn’t _keep_ it. It has... remained in my pocket.”

She arched an eyebrow. “For two months?” 

He scowled and looked away. She chuckled and squeezed his wrist. “I’m just teasing you. Honestly, I’m so pleased you still had it. You know I was sort of imagining it travelling around with you?” She slowly wound the length of satin around her palm as she spoke. “I figured if I wasn’t allowed to leave Kirkwall, at least something of mine could escape. I thought to myself, ‘Fenris and the satin ribbon, going off on adventures across the Waking Sea and beyond!’” She chuckled again. 

He scoffed. “It has hardly been on adventures. It’s been forgotten in my pocket the entire time.” 

“Well then, it should start to see some excitement, shouldn’t it?” Before Fenris could reply, she started wrapping the ribbon around his wrist. 

He recoiled slightly. “What are you–”

“Wait, wait!” She deftly tied the ribbon in a loose bow, then released his wrist and smiled at him. “There. One ribbon bracelet, ready to witness some pirating adventures. Just like yours truly.” She curtsied playfully to him. 

He scowled at his wrist, then held his hand out to her. “You should take it back. It belonged to your sister.”

She shook her head. “It’s yours now. It’s been with you for months already.” She eyed his wrist approvingly. “Besides, it looks lovely with your skin. I’m far too pale. Mother always said red wasn’t a good colour on me.”

He frowned more deeply as he studied the ribbon on his wrist. Then Hawke suddenly gasped and straightened up. “Oh shit. I’m late to meet Anders!” She ran a hand through her messy short hair and smiled at him. “Thank you for the lesson, Fenris. And sorry about the, um.” She bit her lip, and her cheeks started to flush. She gestured vaguely at herself. “I’m, um. I’ll behave better next time, I promise!” She grinned and squeezed his arm, then ran off toward the infirmary.

Fenris watched as she ran away, then blew out a breath and leaned his elbows on the taffrail once more. One single hour in Hawke’s presence, and it felt like his brain and his patience had been stretched to their limits. 

In an hour’s worth of time, she’d waltzed into his quarters uninvited and stared at his cursed tattoos, asked him nosy questions about his past, gotten aroused while he was trying to teach her, then completely diverted the lesson to stare at a bunch of common dolphins instead. 

He ran a frustrated hand through his hair. That’s exactly what Hawke was: frustrating. She was far too talkative, always asking him questions and making her blasted cheerful comments and asking him to teach her things. Always batting her eyelashes at him and _touching_ him – running those damned slender fingers of hers over his arm and tying her damned red ribbon around his wrist… 

_Fasta vass._ He closed his eyes in exhaustion, but it didn’t help. With his eyes closed, he could only picture her that much more clearly: her pearly teeth nipping her raspberry-red lower lip, and that _look_ in her eyes – that undisguised smolder of heat that he hadn’t expected to see in her innocent bronze eyes… 

An unwanted flush of heat suffused his belly again, and he shifted uncomfortably before pushing away from the taffrail. He strode over to the rack of practice weapons and selected a blunted sabre, then began practicing his drills. 

Hawke was… confusing. Being around her was confusing. And there was one good way that Fenris could deal with the confusion.

He would avoid her as much as possible.

###  CULLEN 

The morning after the escape from Estwatch, Cullen found himself standing unobtrusively near the entrance to the officer’s quarters and watching the morning duties on the Lady Luck.

Piper’s ship was buzzing with activity. The swabbies had just finished their morning’s work, and sunlight glinted off of the water lingering in the crevices on the deck. More than a dozen men were handling the rigging, tugging and tying off the lines with the smooth efficiency of a familiar team. Another dozen men were running sword drills on the main deck, and Fenris seemed to be teaching a wide-eyed Lady Rynne how to handle a dagger. A handful of other crew members were repairing a tear in a sail, and the rest appeared to be enjoying their morning meals while cleaning and oiling their weapons and the other equipment. 

Cullen inhaled deeply from the teacup in his hands before taking an appreciative sip. The moment he’d stepped out of Piper’s quarters this morning, a petite Dalish woman wearing an apron had skipped over to him and thrust a cup of tea into his hands. He’d barely had time to stammer out a ‘thank you’ for the luxurious beverage before she’d scampered away saying something about making sure the bread didn’t burn. 

Cullen swallowed the fortifying tea and watched the ship’s activity for a moment longer. Every member of Piper’s crew knew their role and seemed to be carrying out their duties diligently. There was none of the lazing about or the drunken fighting that pirates were known for. He’d heard the crew making ribald jokes, it was true, but none that Cullen couldn’t imagine Piper herself making. 

In truth, the Lady Luck was run with all the efficiency of any navy ship, and Cullen had no qualms about admitting that he was impressed. He’d known all along that Piper was the captain of this ship, but knowing it was different from _seeing_ it in action. Furthermore, Piper was so free-spirited and loose, almost like the mercurial wind come to life in the shape of a gamine silver-haired elf. She was mischievous and jocular and bold, and Cullen could admit to finding it difficult at times to merge the carefree swashbuckling adventurer with his own idea of what a captain should be: hard discipline and command.

But here was the proof of her captaincy, before his very eyes. If the brisk and efficient activity he was observing was anything to go by, Captain Piper Lavellan ran a very tight ship indeed. 

Interestingly, despite the navy-like efficiency, the Lady Luck _felt_ different than a navy ship. It was buzzing with activity, but Cullen felt none of the usual tension that went along with being on a busy ship. The crew moved around the deck with purpose but no rush, and the fighters practicing their drills were smiling and teasing each other in a way that Cullen wasn’t used to seeing in the barracks. The men cleaning their weapons over on the forecastle were laughing and chatting as they worked, and it all seemed very… comfortable. 

_Comfortable._ Cullen was surprised the word had even come to his mind. Comfort was not something he had ever associated with being on any navy ship, not even when he was a youth. 

_Especially not when I was a youth,_ he amended. The thought of the cramped crew quarters on the HMS Kinloch still made his skin crawl. The creeping feeling that the ship’s walls were closing around him, with only the feeblest of daylight eking its way through the portholes to reach his desperate eyes… 

The memory of his own discomfort still brought him shame. Sometimes Cullen thought that the discomfort had simply never gone away, lingering forever at the back of his mind as he worked his way up through the navy ranks and dissipating only when he was finally, blessedly, reassigned to duty on dry land. 

But being here on the Lady Luck was unlike any navy ship he’d ever been assigned to. Cullen didn’t feel the usual tension that gripped his gut when he set foot on a navy ship. Oddly enough, Cullen was feeling nearly as comfortable as he ever did on land. 

“Hey, Commander.” 

Cullen looked up. Varric was at the helm, and he waved a casual hand for Cullen to join him. 

Cullen made his way up the stairs to join the dwarven quartermaster. “Master Tethras,” he said. “Ideal conditions for sailing today. Piper must be pleased.”

Varric smiled. “Oh sure. But she likes it even better when it rains.” 

Cullen raised his eyebrows, then smiled as he remembered. “Ah, of course. I should hope a major storm doesn’t strike while I am on board.”

Varric’s smile broadened. “She told you about her love of storms, huh?”

“I believe it’s one of the first things I learned about her,” he replied. He tapped his fingers idly on his cup of tea. “She told me a story once about a tornado; here in the middle of the Amaranthine Ocean, I believe. She said the Lady Luck was lifted a hundred yards into the air before landing back in the water with an enormous splash.” 

Varric chuckled. “Of course that’s what she said.”

Cullen smirked at him. “You mean to tell me it’s not true?” 

Varric shrugged innocently. “I couldn’t say. I wasn’t on the ship at the time.” 

“A story from before your time?” Cullen asked with a smile. 

“Yeah,” Varric said. “I think that one was from her childhood.”

Cullen looked at him in surprise. “Her childhood?”

Varric nodded and adjusted the ship’s course slightly. “She practically grew up on this ship. Some of her guys here have known her since she was a kid.” 

Cullen stared at him, then looked around the Lady Luck with new appreciation. No wonder Piper was so fond of the ship. She may only have been the captain for a few years, but if she’d been sailing on this ship since she was a child, then of course she would view it as her home. 

He sipped thoughtfully from his teacup for a moment. Then Varric spoke again. “So. What’s next for you, Commander? We taking you back to Kirkwall eventually?” 

Cullen swallowed his tea. “Yes,” he said, with more confidence than he felt. In truth, he wasn’t quite certain what his next move should be. He hadn’t yet had a chance to consult with Rylen this morning; his faithful lieutenant was running drills with some of Piper’s crewmates, and Cullen was loathe to disrupt their activities, particularly since he wasn’t sure what to say to Rylen yet. 

Rylen’s life had been placed in danger, and it was entirely Cullen’s fault. Cullen wanted to have a plan to set things straight with Meredith before returning to Kirkwall, but in truth, he wasn’t sure how to return to Kirkwall without placing an even larger target on Rylen’s back, not to mention his own. 

Varric hummed a quiet acknowledgement. “If you wanted to skip out on the navy, I’m sure Piper could find space for you on the ship.”

Cullen smiled at Varric’s jest, but to his surprise, Varric’s expression was serious. 

Cullen blinked. “You… you are serious about that. You truly think she would?”

Varric huffed in amusement. “She brought Rynne Hawke on board, and Rynne doesn’t know the first thing about being on a ship. She would definitely let _you_ join the crew, if that’s what you wanted.”

Cullen glanced across the deck at Lady Rynne. She and Fenris were standing at the starboard taffrail now, apparently deep in conversation. Not for the first time today, Piper’s words from the previous night crossed his mind. 

She’d invited him to join the crew. Oh, she’d said she was joking, certainly, but the more Cullen thought about it, the more he couldn’t help but wonder if Varric was right. _Had_ Piper meant it when she’d said he could join the Lady Luck’s crew? 

He looked at Varric once more. “What made you decide to leave Kirkwall and join Piper’s crew?”

Varric tilted his head and adjusted the steering. “Well, Kirkwall…” He glanced up at Cullen. “Kirkwall’s home, and in some ways, it always will be. The book shop is still mine, by the way, in case you wondered,” he said with a smirk. Then he looked out at the horizon again. “Can I talk frankly? Without this getting back to your, uh, superiors?”

Cullen raised his eyebrows, and a wiggle of trepidation made its way through his gut. He was certain he wasn’t going to like what Varric had to say, but he had no choice but to hear it now. “Of course,” he said. 

Varric glanced at him once more before turning his gaze to the ocean ahead. “In the past few years, it’s felt kinda like the navy is, uh, holding the reins a little too much in Kirkwall. For example, taxes have been going up, but we haven’t seen much done for it. Crime is still high in Lowtown. The docks still need repairs. The only changes I’ve seen are the navy getting bigger ships and shinier buckles on their boots.” 

Cullen glanced guiltily down at his own salt-worn boots. He’d just had this pair replaced a year ago. 

“I know that’s just one example,” Varric went on. “And yeah, yeah, you could say it’s the Viscount who’s at fault. But I think we all know who really has the Viscount’s ear.” 

_Meredith._ Cullen pursed his lips in frustration. Now that he was seeing so many ways that her influence was at play, he was angry at himself for not realizing sooner that she was the one behind the blood lyrium problem.

For lack of anything to say, he sipped his cooling tea. But Varric wasn’t finished. “In fairness to you guys, that’s not the only reason I left Kirkwall.” He shrugged. “It’s just nice being a part of Piper’s crew. I mean, I don’t _love_ being the quartermaster; sometimes I miss the simplicity of being a bookstore owner. And I don’t have time to write as much as I’d like. But the freedom of having Piper for a boss makes it worth it.”

Cullen leaned back against the railing and tilted his head quizzically. “The freedom of having a boss…?”

Varric smiled at him. “Of having _Piper_ for a boss,” he corrected. “She calls the shots, no doubt about that, but she listens to us. We came to rescue you, and that was what she wanted. But now we’ll spend a week or two going where the crew want to go, because she wants everyone to be happy.” He shrugged. “Can’t say there’s much of anything in Kirkwall that’s that equitable.”

Cullen sighed and leaned back against the railing. “No, you can’t,” he said softly.

Varric’s gaze was sympathetic, and Cullen gave him a wry little smile. Then a sultry voice floated into his ears. 

“Good morning, Golden Boy.” 

Piper was sauntering toward them with a broad smile on her face. Her silver hair was bound in a loose and messy braid, and she was wearing a little sleeveless vest that showed off her arms and the bronzed planes of her belly. 

He tore his shameless eyes away from her bare skin and gave her a polite half-bow. “Captain.” 

She chuckled and patted his cheek. “Oh Cullen, don’t go formal on me now. There’s no place for manners for a man who’s showing that much chest.” She winked at him salaciously.

He cleared his throat and tugged nervously at the open collar of his shirt, and Varric chuckled. “Does that mean I can be rude to you whenever I want, then?”

She laughed and bumped his shoulder with her hip. “As though you’re ever polite to me anyway, you insubordinate swine.” She looped her hand companionably through Cullen’s elbow. “I’m whisking this one away for breakfast. Holler if you need me.”

“You got it,” Varric said. 

Piper smiled up at Cullen. “Are you hungry?”

“Famished, in fact,” he admitted. “I truly can’t recall the last time I ate. Though I suspect I’m less hungry than I would be without that… concoction Anders gave me last night.”

“Ah, you remember that, then!” She laughed as she led him across the deck toward the forecastle. “I wasn’t sure you’d remember much of last night. You were fucking exhausted.” 

_I recall you joking about me joining your ship,_ he thought. Then he pushed the thought away. It wasn’t as though he was in a position to consider the offer anyhow, even if she meant it.

“I remember,” he said out loud. “I especially remember your kindness. No, I…” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Kindness is insufficient. I… truly, Piper, Rylen and I owe you our lives. I can’t thank you enough—” 

She waved a dismissive hand. “Oh Cullen, please! Stop thanking me. It’s becoming so tiresome.” She waved for him to take a seat on a bench near the bow. There was a plain but clean wooden tray on the bench containing two biscuits slathered with jam, two portions of salted beef, and an orange sliced into six pieces. 

Cullen gestured politely for her to take a seat. She grinned at him, then plopped down on the bench and crossed her legs. “You were dead to the world last night, you know. You didn’t even hear the celebration on deck, did you?”

Cullen raised his eyebrows as he sat on the bench. “There was a celebration?”

She laughed and picked up a slice of orange. “Yes indeed. It was _very_ rowdy – just how I like it. I didn’t join in this time, but believe me when I said the crew enjoyed themselves.” She bit into the orange slice with relish, then delicately wiped a trickle of juice from the corner of her mouth. “Your man Rylen jumped right into the fun. I shouldn’t be surprised, though; those Starkhaven boys can drink.” She swallowed her bite of orange and smiled mischievously. “I think he’d fit in just fine on my ship.”

A funny swooping feeling filled Cullen’s belly. There it was again: another tongue-in-cheek implication that he – well, Rylen in this case – should join her crew. But Cullen still couldn’t decide if she was serious or not.

He decided to sidestep it for now. He smiled and selected a piece of salted beef. “He was training with your men, as well. He’s very fortunate; he has that uncanny ability to befriend anyone. Until recently, that is.” He sighed and took a bite of beef as he remembered the regrettable threats on Rylen’s life back in the navy headquarters. 

Piper’s expression grew serious. “Cullen, what happened? How did you end up on the wrong side of a flintlock in the ass-end of nowhere?”

He swallowed the beef before replying. “My investigation into the blood lyrium problem was becoming too successful, it seems. Or… well.” He twisted his lips ruefully. “I was on the right track, at least. And I failed to hide the fact that I was on the right track.”

She tilted her head curiously, so he continued to explain. “I followed your tip,” he said with a grateful nod. “I went to the Darktown docks and waited until I saw something suspicious, and…” He rose from the bench and idly wandered over to the taffrail. “Well, to make a long story short, I was nearing the conclusion that Meredith Stannard, my commanding officer, was the one behind the blood lyrium trade.” 

Piper raised her eyebrows. “You’re kidding. Well, you did say it seemed to be an inside job.” She wandered over to join him and hopped up to sit on the taffrail. 

“Yes, I did. But somehow, I didn’t imagine…” He trailed off, watching nervously as Piper swung one leg over the side of the taffrail to dangle carelessly over the open ocean below. 

She comfortably folded her other leg up on the taffrail, then shot him a quizzical look. “Is something wrong?”

“N-no, nothing,” he stammered. There was no point asking her to come down from her precarious perch; if he expressed concern about her safety, she would only laugh. 

“Er, what was I… oh yes. Meredith.” He forced his eyes from her dangerously dangling leg back up to her bright-eyed face. “Well, as I mentioned, I did not hide my investigation well enough. I…” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I placed Rylen in danger by acquiring his assistance, and Meredith had us sent to Estwatch. Ostensibly to scout the blasted place for a new trading colony–”

Piper barked out a scathing laugh. “You must be fucking joking. That place, a trading colony?”

“I know,” Cullen said flatly. “It’s… it _is_ laughable. She must truly have been desperate to jettison us so blatantly.” He ran a hand through his unfortunately curling hair. “In any case, we made the trip to Estwatch without incident, but I knew it was just a matter of time before her men made a move against us. Within a day of our arrival, Ser Alrik–”

“That scum that I killed?” Piper interrupted. She snorted dismissively. “Good riddance, by the way.”

Cullen shot her a tiny smile, then leaned his elbows on the taffrail. “Within a day, he ‘found’ blood lyrium in my quarters and accused me of corruption.”

Piper’s face slackened with shock, then twisted with anger. “You’re not serious.”

“Unfortunately, I am,” Cullen said tiredly. “I argued, he demanded that Rylen and I confess, I refused. There was an altercation, and…” He sighed again. “We fled Alrik and his men. We were forced to hide on the island for almost two days. When they finally caught up with us, I managed to kill one of them while helping Rylen to escape. And thus the charges against me became corruption _and_ murder. After that… well, you came.” He shot her a small, grateful smile, then looked out across the horizon at the shadowy shape of Llomerynn in the distance.

A moment later, Piper reached over and squeezed his hand. 

Without really even thinking about it, Cullen turned his hand over so her fingers were resting on his palm. They were small and slender but tough with calluses, and as Cullen idly studied her hand, she twined her fingers with his. 

He swallowed hard and met her gaze, and butterflies burst to life in his belly. Her eyebrows were lifted with sympathy, and her big hazel eyes were warm and kind, and… 

… and there was a _P_ branded on her wrist. A cruel mark of white standing out against the warm bronze of her skin that told everyone, in no uncertain terms, that she was a pirate. 

No matter how fond he was of Piper, she was still a pirate captain, and he was a commander of the Kirkwall Navy. When Cullen returned to his post, Piper would return to the sea, and this… partnership, or truce, or whatever they wanted to call it – this would come to an end. 

They would likely see each other again, especially if Cullen managed to undo some of Meredith’s more outrageous laws once she was stripped of her rank. But this warmth in his gut and this wistful pulling feeling behind his sternum… There was nowhere _this_ could go. 

He swallowed the lump in his throat, then returned his gaze to his cold cup of tea and reluctantly released Piper’s hand. “I… I suppose I hoped for better. With Meredith as my admiral, that is. It’s disheartening to realize you’ve dedicated your life to something, only to find it is not what you had thought. Not what you had… hoped.”

She was quiet for a moment, and Cullen shot her another quick glance. Her lips were twisted with sympathy, and when he met her eye, she shrugged sadly. “I’m sorry, Cullen. I… well, if the world was fair, then shitty things would only happen to shitty people. But then, if the world was fair, we pirates wouldn’t need to exist.” She shot him a cheeky smile.

He blinked. “What do you mean?”

“Well, if a normal lawful life on land gave everyone what they needed to survive, then that’s where most people would be,” she said. “But everyone on this ship is here because it’s the better alternative.” She pulled the scrap of cloth from the end of her braid, then started unravelling her braid as she continued to speak. “If my crewmates followed the laws of the lands they came from, Fenris would still be some asshole’s slave. Anders would be stuck with the Ferelden Navy, and Rynne would probably be stuck marrying some rich old guy. They’re all here because they _want_ to be, and that’s what matters.” 

She ran her hands through her hair, loosing it from the constraints of the braid that had held it in place. A sweet and spicy scent wafted from the wavy silver cloud, and Cullen forced himself to pay attention to her words rather than the smell of her hair.

“This life was their choice, you see?” she said, oblivious to his inappropriate focus on her hair. “It’s what they chose. And if they decided they didn’t want to be on the Lady Luck anymore, well…” She shrugged and pushed her hair back from her shoulder. “Some pirate captains make their crew sign a contract. _I_ don’t keep crew members against their will. But my point is, everyone is here because something was unfair. There was some kind of shitty injustice where they came from, so they found themselves on my ship instead.” She casually leaned back on her palms. “We follow the code of the Lady Luck. Other than that, we’re free to do whatever the fuck we like.” 

Cullen looked at her in surprise. “The code of the Lady Luck? What is that?”

She widened her eyes, then treated him to a slow smile. “Oh, Golden Boy. I’ve never mentioned this to you? It’s the set of laws every crew member has to follow while they’re on my ship.”

He gaped at her. “You… you have laws?”

She laughed merrily and ran her hands through her hair, releasing yet more of the warm and tangy scent from the wavy strands. “Yes, we do. Are you interested in reading them?”

“Very much, in fact,” he said earnestly.

Her smile became wicked. “Well, you can’t. For pirates’ eyes only.” She shrugged and leaned back on her palms once more. “If you were to ever join my crew, on the other hand…” She winked at him, then looked out to sea. 

His belly swooped once more. This was the third time now that she’d jested about this. But Cullen simply couldn’t take it as a joke anymore. 

He studied her in silence, admiring the curl of the smile on her lips and the playful tug of the wind through her unruly hair until finally she turned back to meet his eye. In silence, they stared at each other until the smile slowly melted from her lips, leaving an uncharacteristically serious look on her face. 

She licked her lips, then smiled again. “Why are you staring at me? Like what you see, do you?” She lifted her tattooed shoulder in a coquettish manner.

He kept his steady gaze on her face. “Piper… would you genuinely consider asking me to join your crew?”

The jocularity fled her face, and Cullen’s belly flipped over once more: her expression was suddenly bright with hope. “Why? Would you be willing to consider it?”

He took a slow, careful breath. Clearly the thought had crossed his mind multiple times today. He genuinely couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this relaxed, or the last time he had slept this soundly. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been in anyone’s company who made him feel so much at ease the way Piper did. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had supported and defended him as fiercely Piper had. 

But the decision about his next move wasn’t just about Cullen himself. There were bigger issues that needed to be considered; the Kirkwall Navy was undeniably corrupt, and Cullen couldn’t simply walk away if they were placing the city – and his goodhearted comrades – at risk. 

He gazed into Piper’s beautiful hazel eyes. “Piper, I…” He exhaled heavily, but she saved him from saying the most difficult part. 

“You have to see this through in Kirkwall,” she said softly.

He nodded. “I must. I have no… I have no choice.” As soon as the words left his mouth, he realized how sad they sounded, especially in light of Piper’s inspiring talk about her crew and their motivations for being on the Lady Luck. 

He looked sadly down at his cup of tea. Then Piper spoke again. “All right. How can we help?”

He looked at her. He must have misheard. “You… you want to help the Kirkwall Navy?” he said slowly.

She snorted. “No. I want to help _you_.”

He stared at her. Her lovely face was friendly and matter-of-fact, as though her offer to help him was no big deal. 

He swallowed the rising lump in his throat. “But… your crew,” he croaked. “Will they agree to… to helping me?”

She shrugged and ruffled her hair. “Sure, if I throw enough treasure at them.”

He raised his eyebrows, and she chuckled. “I’m joking, Golden Boy. Of course I’ll run it past them first. And trust me, they’ll be in an extra agreeable mood after we spend a few nights in Rialto.” With these words, her lips lifted into a very broad and _very_ mischievous grin.

Cullen’s stomach, meanwhile, dropped like a stone. “Rialto?” he blurted. “A few _nights_? Piper, I can’t go to Rialto, it’s… it’s–”

“–the finest and most notorious pirate port on this side of the Amaranthine Ocean?” she finished cheerfully. “I know. And trust me, Cullen, it’ll do you some good.”

“Do me some–? _How?_ ” he asked incredulously. “I’m – Piper, if I’m spotted… _cavorting_ in a pirate port–”

She laughed and playfully patted his cheek. “Cullen. Relax,” she said soothingly. “What happens in Rialto stays in Rialto. But you don’t have to _cavort_ if you don’t want to.” She snickered. “You definitely have to come off the ship, though, because I said so. I’m the captain, and what I say goes.”

Her grin was wicked and wide, and Cullen gave her a chiding look. “Piper.”

She laughed once more. Then, to Cullen’s horror, she stood up on the taffrail with only one hand clinging cavalierly to the nearest line. 

“Listen up, you sorry lot!” she bellowed to the crew. “Change of plans! We’re going to bypass Llomerynn and head straight for Rialto!” 

An enormous cheer rose from the entire crew, and Piper grinned down at Cullen. “All right, Golden Boy. Are you ready to see what the pirate life is _really_ like?”

“Do I have a choice?” he said, half in jest. He reached one hand up to her entreatingly. 

To his relief, she took his hand and hopped down to the deck. She shook her wild hair back from her face and smiled, but her smile was soft now instead of cheeky.

“Of course you have a choice,” she told him. “That’s the whole point.” 

He studied her open, guileless, beautiful face. Finally he took a deep breath and nodded. 

“All right, Captain Lavellan,” he said. “I will follow your lead. Just this once,” he added in a mock-scolding tone.

She grinned at him and tugged the collar of his shirt. “That’s all I ask, Golden Boy. A few nights in Rialto, and maybe you’ll change your tune.”

Her eyes were dancing with laughter, and Cullen smiled at her joyful face. He couldn’t abandon his duty to Kirkwall; he had to return eventually, and Piper knew it too. 

But while he was figuring out his next move, he might as well follow Piper’s lead. It couldn’t hurt to learn more about a pirate’s life. From a purely educational perspective, of course. 

He admired her bright troublemaker’s grin. He barely knew what to expect from this trip to Rialto, but he knew this much: it was going to be an adventure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahoy, friends: this may be the last chapter until August! I'm going on vacation so PLEASE BEAR WITH US, we'll be back soon!! 
> 
> In the meantime, feel free to check out our artist and creator [Schoute](https://schoute.tumblr.com/) and [yours truly](https://pikapeppa.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr! xoxo


	9. Rialto: The Night Begins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you missed it on Tumblr, Schoute did a little bonus art and I did a little bonus drabble about [Piper stealing kisses!](https://schoute.tumblr.com/post/186469315804/schoute-stealing-kisses-blurb-by-the-amazing)

###  PIPER 

Cullen nervously smoothed a hand over the linen vest he’d borrowed from another member of her crew. “Are you certain this costume is necessary?” he asked.

Piper smirked. “It’s not a costume, Cullen. It’s just normal clothes. And yes, it’s necessary if you don’t want a dozen people to pick a fight with you for being a navy man the second we set foot on the docks.” She rubbed a bit of perfumed oil on her fingers, then ran her fingers through her wavy hair. 

He frowned. “That seems incredibly illegal.” He plucked at his rolled-up shirtsleeves. 

Piper turned to him with a grin. “Fistfights are allowed in Rialto, Golden Boy. No gun fights, no knife fights, but fistfights? Absolutely.” She stepped closer to him and carefully adjusted the low-cut collar of his shirt. She hadn’t thought it was possible for him to be more attractive than he already was, but something about the sight of him in normal clothes instead of his navy uniform made her heart flutter in her chest. 

He gave her a slightly pleading look. “Piper, I feel I must warn you again. I… I suspect I may not enjoy this outing. You might be better off leaving me on the ship.”

She looked up at him with wide eyes. “Absolutely not! You have to see Rialto. There’s a little of something for everyone there.” She gave him a reassuring smile. “You’ll have a good time, Cullen. I promise. Now come on, we’re wasting time.” She grabbed his hand and pulled him out the door of her quarters.

Dorian, Varric, Fenris and Rynne were waiting on the deck. Dorian and Varric were bantering back and forth while Fenris wore his customary frown. Rynne, meanwhile, was practically hopping with excitement. She grinned at Cullen and Piper as they approached. “Commander, don’t you look pirate-y!” she exclaimed. “That vest is absolutely darling on you. The colour makes your eyes pop.” 

Piper bit the inside of her cheek to stop from laughing. Cullen scowled briefly, then sighed and bowed his head. “Thank you, Lady Rynne. I appreciate the, er, sentiment.”

“Oh please, none of that ‘lady’ business anymore,” Rynne said cheerfully. “I’m done with all that. Just call me Rynne now.”

“Or should we all be calling you ‘Hawke’?” Piper said, with a sly glance at Fenris.

He shot her a quick glare, then folded his arms and looked away. Rynne beamed at him before turning back to Piper. “You can call me whatever you like,” she said. “As long as it’s not ‘lady’.”

Varric chuckled. “Careful what you say there. The Captain will take you up on it.”

Piper smirked, both at Varric’s remark and at the way Fenris was studiously avoiding Rynne’s gaze. “Rynne has nothing to worry about,” she said. “I only sling insults at my most insolent crew.”

Dorian casually examined his gold-beringed fingers. “Charming though this little exchange has been, I suggest we get on with the party,” he said. “Some of us are getting rather parched. That fine Antivan wine isn’t going to drink itself, you know.” 

Piper tutted and punched Dorian’s arm. “ _Fenedhis,_ so impatient. Go get in the boat already then, you useless gilded fleshbag.” She winked at Rynne. “Case in point.”

Rynne laughed, and Dorian tutted good-naturedly before sliding down the rope ladder to the rowboat below. Piper waited until Varric descended the ladder as well, then smiled at Cullen and bowed with a flourish. 

She gestured to the ladder. “After you, my fine sir.” 

He shot her a chiding smirk, then exhaled sharply before descending the rope ladder. Piper then turned to Rynne. “All right, ladies next–”

“I will remain on the ship,” Fenris said. 

Rynne’s face instantly fell. Piper, meanwhile, wilted in utter exasperation. “Fen, come _on_. You can’t be serious with this bullshit. You can’t stay on the ship by yourself.”

“Why not?” he said.

“Because it’s boring as fuck,” Piper complained. “What in the Void will you do if you stay on the Lady Luck all alone?”

He shrugged. “I will dance, of course. I shall run from the bow to the stern choreographing dance routines.”

Piper gave him a flat stare, unamused by his so-called clever remarks. Rynne, on the other hand, was gaping at him with a combination of disbelief and delight. “You’re fucking kidding.”

He smirked, and Piper eyed him resentfully. “Of course he is. At the worst possible time,” she said. She planted her hands on her hips. “Fenris, you’re coming to Rialto. That’s an order.”

He narrowed his eyes. “You wouldn’t really make such a command.”

She scowled at him, then tutted and dropped her hands to her sides. “No. But I will hound you about this for _weeks_ ,” she threatened. “Is that what you want?”

He scowled back at her and obstinately lifted his chin. Then Rynne stepped forward and lifted her chin as well. “I’m staying here too,” she said.

Fenris whipped around to stare at her, and Piper gaped at her in dismay. “What? No! You have to come to Rialto! You’ve never been!” 

Fenris glared at Rynne. “You should go to Rialto with Piper,” he said.

She shook her head. “No, thank you. I’d rather stay here with you.” She batted her eyelashes at him.

The tips of his ears went pink, and Piper glowered at him. Of course he was the reason Rynne was staying on the ship. “Fenris, you’re being a spoilsport,” she accused. “You’re sucking the fun out of Rynne before she’s had a chance to even have any!”

Fenris shot her another dirty look, then turned to Rynne once more. “Go to Rialto,” he said firmly. “Piper will take you dancing. You will enjoy yourself.”

“That’s all right,” she said brightly. “I’ll enjoy myself just fine right here.” She sat on a nearby bench and delicately arranged her colourful Rivaini skirt around herself – a skirt Piper had lent her especially for this outing. 

Piper folded her arms and glowered at Fenris, then softened slightly as she studied him. His shoulders were hunched defensively, and he was frowning at Rynne, but his frown seemed more guilty now than angry. 

Piper shrugged and unfolded her arms. “Fine. Suit yourself,” she said. “I’ll enjoy enough booze for all three of us, how’s that?” 

Fenris scoffed. “As though that’s any different than your usual behaviour in Rialto.”

“You’re right. It’s not,” Piper said cheerfully. She sauntered over to the rope ladder. “See you later! Have fun doing nothing together.” She slung her leg over the taffrail, then glanced at Fenris once more. 

His arms were folded still, and the look on his face was petulant. Rynne, in contrast, was actually looking quite content indeed.

Piper shook her head in amusement, then slid down the rope ladder to the rowboat below. Dorian shot her a bored look as she stepped onto the boat. “Dare I even ask what the hold-up could possibly be?” he said.

“Fenris and Rynne aren’t coming,” Piper said. She slapped Kaaras affably on the shoulder. “Push us off, my friend.”

Varric lifted an eyebrow. “Seriously? He’s1 refusing to come out to Rialto again?”

“So he says,” Piper said. “But we’ll see about that.” She raised her eyebrows at Varric in a meaningful manner. They may have needed all the rowboats to get the crew to Rialto, but the Lady Luck still had its little four-person dinghy. 

Varric chuckled. “Rynne _was_ known in Kirkwall for having a boatload’s worth of charm. I guess we’ll see happens as the night wears on.” 

“Exactly,” Piper said. She picked her way across the rowboat benches and sat beside Cullen. 

His hands were folded in his lap, and he was holding himself very still. Piper patted his forearm. “Relax, Golden Boy. You’ll be fine. You’re one of us now. For the time we’re in Rialto, that is,” she added hastily. She didn’t want him to think this was a cheap ploy to get him to join the Lady Luck. He’d made his decision, after all. 

Although if this trip _did_ manage to convince him to join her crew, Piper definitely wouldn’t complain. 

He exhaled, then gave her a rueful smile. “Forgive me. It has been a long time since…” He trailed off, then huffed in amusement and rubbed the back of his neck. “Truly, I can’t clearly recall a time in the past few years when I have put duty aside for the sake of, er, fun.”

“Well, we’re all about having fun,” Piper said cheerfully. “We work hard, but we play hard too. Right, crew?” Her crew on the rowboat cheered and stomped their feet, and Piper stomped her feet and laughed along with them. When the noise died down, she turned to Cullen once more.

He was studying her pensively. Piper ran her hands through her perfumed hair. “What is it? What’s on your mind?”

Cullen studied her for a moment more before answering. “Would you consider this your work?”

She blinked. “What do you mean?”

“I mean… well. As pirates, you… er. Well, you…” He cleared his throat and lowered his voice. “Please understand, Piper. You are very different from other pirates I’ve encountered in the past. All of your crew are, it seems,” he said with a glance at her cheerfully chattering crewmates. “But the other pirates I have had the misfortune of meeting were criminals. Murderers and rapists and thieves. I… Before you and I met, I would hardly consider being a pirate a job.”

Piper frowned thoughtfully and tilted her head. “I don’t really think of it that way. I think of it like… Well, I’m the captain. Varric’s the quartermaster. Fen’s the master-at-arms, Merill’s the cook, Kaaras is a damned good sailor… Those are our jobs.” She shrugged. “It just so happens that we work outside the law, that’s all.” 

Cullen nodded slowly. “And you work outside the law because… because the law is not always just.”

Piper playfully chucked his chin. “Now you’ve got it. See, you’re fitting in already.” She perked up as they slid into the Rialto docks. “And look at that, we’re here!” 

The crew disembarked and immediately scattered. Cullen stepped onto the docks and chivalrously offered her his hand, and Piper beamed at him and allowed him to help her out of the boat. 

“Such a gentleman,” she teased. “That won’t do in Rialto. You’ll be eaten alive.” 

His brow creased with worry once more, but before Piper could reassure him, Dorian was stepping onto the deck beside them. “Piper, don’t fool yourself. He’ll be eaten alive no matter what. Oh, don’t get me wrong,” he said to a stricken-looking Cullen, “I mean that in the nicest possible way.”

“Is there a nice way to be eaten alive?” Cullen said faintly. 

Varric snorted in amusement. “We’re not cannibals, if that’s what you’re afraid of.” He patted Cullen’s elbow. “Come on, Curly, just dive on in. The water’s fine, and there aren’t too many sharks.” 

Cullen shot Piper an alarmed look, and she shooed Varric and Dorian away. “Go on, you two, take your so-called help and get out of my sight.”

“As you command, O Esteemed Captain,” Dorian said with an ostentatious bow. He patted Varric’s shoulder as they moved away. “All right, my hirsute friend. Would you prefer to lose your money to me by gambling, or by buying me drinks?” 

“Ha. Not this time, Sparkler,” Varric drawled. “You’ll recall that you still owe me from last time.” 

They continued to bicker amiably as they moved away along the dock, and Piper chuckled. “Little shits,” she said fondly. 

Cullen frowned. “Did Varric just call me ‘Curly’?”

Piper eyed his perfect golden hair, which was indeed starting to curl from the humidity. “Maybe,” she said innocently. “Now come on. Let me introduce you to the best pirate port on this side of the world.” She linked her hand cozily through his arm and led him along the docks toward the beach. 

The beachside section of the town was vibrant with light and laughter. Street merchants wandered around selling snacks and handmade jewelry, and the white-sand beach was peppered with bonfires, each one surrounded with people lounging barefoot while drinking and cooking. 

Piper cheerfully tugged Cullen along the beach and reminded him of some of Rialto’s rules. “Remember, don’t use weapons unless someone pulls a weapon on you first,” she said.

He tore his wide-eyed gaze away from the dancing beachgoers to frown at her. “I still don’t understand this rule. If everyone is forbidden to use weapons, why carry weapons at all?”

She shrugged carelessly and led him toward the main square. “Because it’s likely that someone _will_ pull a weapon on you.” The square was bustling with nightlife: street urchins playing and picking pockets, people exchanging loud greetings and street entertainers and the famous courtesans of the Blooming Rose at the northeast corner of the square. She eagerly pulled him toward the largest tavern at the northwest corner. 

“But… but if someone is likely to pull a weapon on you despite the rule, why is the rule there in the first place?” Cullen asked. 

_Poor Golden Boy,_ she thought in amusement. He seemed to be just a step behind in everything she was trying to tell him, and she couldn’t blame him, really; he was still stuck in the Kirkwall Navy way of thinking. 

She stopped in front of a sturdy wooden door, then looked up at him with a grin. “Don’t ask me. I didn’t make the rules here.”

Cullen raised his eyebrows. “Who did?”

“You’ll see,” she said mysteriously. She turned to the wooden door and shoved it open. 

A symphony of noise and joyful energy burst from the two-storey tavern with all the force of a brisk ocean wave, striking a fresh burst of energy into Piper’s already-excited heart. She turned to Cullen and spread her arms wide. “Welcome to the Hanged Man!” she announced.

His eyes went wide. Piper beamed at him as he took in all the wonderful sights: the bartenders serving drinks and witty repartee, the flirtatious prostitutes, the thirsty patrons making deals and throwing dice over drinks, and the vivacious musicians tipsily spinning out a lively jig. A dozen people called out greetings or cheerful insults at Piper as she stepped inside, and she greeted them in return with rude hand gestures before smiling up at Cullen once more. 

“So?” she said eagerly. “What do you think?”

He slowly shook his head. He looked frankly stunned. “I… I have never been in a place like this before. It’s rather, er… overwhelming.”

“Isn’t it, though?” Piper looked fondly at the tavern, then linked her arm with Cullen’s once more and pulled him toward the bar. “Now come on, quick, let’s grab you a drink before the Queen shows up and starts hassling me.”

“The Queen?” Cullen demanded. “What queen?”

Piper barked out a laugh as she pulled him through the frothing crowd. “Not the Fereldan Queen, if that’s what you’re thinking.” She beamed at the dwarven bartender as he slid two tankards in her direction.

She placed six coppers on the bar, then handed one tankard to Cullen and lifted the second one. “Cheers! To Kirkwall.” 

He raised his eyebrows. “Why to Kirkwall?”

“Well, if it wasn’t for Kirkwall, we’d never have met,” she explained. “And I for one am very glad we did.” She took a healthy mouthful of rum and enjoyed the sugary bite as it burned its way down her throat, then looked up at Cullen again. 

His face somehow looked both happy and sad at once. She elbowed him playfully. “Come on, Golden Boy, cheer up. Soak it all in as best you can,” said encouragingly. “You might be scared now–”

He harrumphed. “I wouldn’t say _scared_ , exactly.”

“–but I think you’ll miss this when you go back to good old Kirkwall.” She grinned and took another healthy gulp to hide the painful jolt behind her sternum at the thought of his eventual departure. She’d talked him into a few days in Rialto, sure, but that time would be over in the blink of an eye, and then where would they be? Back to their monthly irregular run-ins in Kirkwall, once they managed to get rid of fucking Meredith? 

Monthly visits were better than nothing, certainly. But after spending so much time in Cullen’s company for the past day or two, Piper had a sneaking suspicion that the monthly visits wouldn’t be enough anymore. 

She idly fluffed her hair, then gently elbowed him again. “Go on, drink up. You’ve earned it.” 

He finally took a sip, then grimaced as he swallowed. “This is pure rum?” he rasped.

Piper lowered her tankard from her lips. “Of course. But here, I’ll break you in gently. Take it slow for your first time.” She winked at him and enjoyed his pinkening cheeks, then gestured to the bartender again. “Oi, Cabot! A ginger beer, please?”

Cullen gave her a skeptical look. “Beer _and_ rum? That’s hardly–”

“Oh, don’t worry, it’s not real beer,” she assured him. “It’s a tangy beverage from Rivain, you’ll see. It’s a taste adventure!” She took the bottle from Cabot with a nod of thanks, then carefully decanted half of it into Cullen’s drink. She placed the bottle on the bar, then looked up to find that sad little smile on his face once more. 

“Everything seems to be an adventure to you, doesn’t it?” he said.

“Exactly,” she said. “What’s the point of life if it’s not to be a grand adventure?”

His smile widened, but the expression only made him look sadder somehow. She took a step closer to him and rested a hand on his forearm. “Cullen, really, if this is too much for you, let me know. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”

He didn’t reply, and Piper watched with pang of tenderness – and a bit of worry – as his face grew serious. He released a quiet breath, then took a gulp of his drink.

She smiled despite her concern. “That’s my Golden Boy,” she said.

Cullen reached out and tipped her chin up very gently, and Piper’s breath stalled. 

He licked his lips nervously. “Piper, I–”

A sultry purr of a voice suddenly cut through the clamour. “Well well, if it isn’t the notorious Mad Piper. Back again to sully my doorstep, are you?”

Piper dragged in a deep breath to calm her racing heart, then turned in the direction of the voice and shot a feral grin at the curvaceous woman who’d spoken. “Brightening your nasty doorstep, you mean, you salty Rivaini wench.”

The newcomer shifted her weight to one hip and idly stroked her heavy gold necklace. “You say the sweetest things. Just can’t stay away, can you? I suppose you can’t be blamed. I _am_ irresistible.”

Piper scoffed and leaned back against the bar. “Don’t fool yourself. This pathetic town is the only place to stock up before going north,” she said dismissively.

Cullen frowned. “I thought you said this was the best–”

Piper held up one finger to silence him. “As I was saying, Rialto is totally overrated. Far too rich and decadent. Not unlike the wench who runs it.” She bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself from laughing. 

The Rivaini pirate slowly smiled, giving Piper the impression of a tiger ready to pounce. “No one’s forcing you to stay.” She gave Cullen a _very_ thorough once-over. “This handsome specimen, on the other hand, is more than welcome to dock in my port. What’s your name, puppy?”

Cullen straightened and frowned at her. “I am Comman–”

“This is Cullen,” Piper interrupted. No need for Cullen to get himself into a friendly fight so soon into the night. She gestured grandly to their new companion. “Cullen, this is Isabela. The so-called Pirate Queen of Rialto.”

Isabela let out a throaty laugh. “So-called nothing. I _am_ the Queen here.”

Cullen looked at Isabela with fresh interest. “So Rialto is under your rule of law?”

“Damned right,” Isabela confirmed. “And I punish naughty boys and girls who break my rules, so you’d better be very good.” She glanced at Piper and gave her an appreciative once-over as well. “ _You’ve_ needed some rather thorough punishment in the past. I’d be happy to punish you and your handsome friend here later tonight.” She quirked a provocative eyebrow at Cullen. “If you’re sufficiently naughty, that is.” 

Cullen cleared his throat uncomfortably, and Piper grinned at the abrupt reddening of his cheeks. She patted his arm reassuringly. “Thanks for the generous offer, Isabela, but I think Cullen and I will be very well-behaved tonight.”

“Boring of you, but suit yourselves,” Isabela said airily. “Enjoy the spiced rum, won’t you?”

“Will do,” Piper said, then finally enfolded her friend in a hug and kissed her cheek. “All hail the Queen,” she said playfully.

Isabela chuckled. “Always good to have you here, mad thing,” she purred. She kissed Piper on both cheeks, then ran a finger along Cullen’s arm. “Take good care of our Mad Piper, puppy. I’ve got an eye on you.” 

“I don’t need taking care of!” Piper called after Isabela, who was sashaying elegantly away. She shook her head in amusement, then turned back to Cullen, who was looking rather cautious. 

She cocked her head. “Everything all right?” 

“Yes, of course,” he said quickly. “I didn’t, er. Didn’t realize you were, er, taken.” 

Piper snickered. “I’m not. We run into each other sometimes. A little friendly competition and a little fun, that’s all.” She leaned her elbows on the bar and shot him a sly look. “Why do you ask? Interested in doing a little _taking_ yourself, Commander?” 

Predictably, his cheeks started turning pink. But that slightly sad look was on his face again, and Piper didn’t like it. She’d brought him here to show him a good time, not to have him looking at her with that wistful face, as though he was missing her even though she was standing right here. 

She slapped her palm jovially on the bar, making him jump. “Come on, Cullen, drink up! No time to waste. There’s lots to do.” 

“Wh-what do you mean?” he said.

“I told you! Work hard, play hard, right? Well, we’ve been working hard.” She chugged the rest of her rum, then waved the bartender over once more before grinning at Cullen. “Now it’s time to play.”

###  FENRIS 

Fenris watched as Kaaras pushed off from the Lady Luck, sending the rowboat in a smooth course toward the Rialto shore. Then, reluctantly, he turned to look at Hawke.

Her hands were folded demurely in her lap. She met his eye, then beamed at him.

So much for his plan to avoid her as much as possible. 

He folded his arms and leaned back against the taffrail. “You should have gone with them. There is nothing for you to do here all night.” 

“Well, you’re here. I wanted to keep you company,” she said. 

_Why?_ he thought. He looked away. “I don’t need company.”

“Everyone needs company sometimes,” she said. “And look, now you’re stuck with me, so you might as well come and chat.” 

He shot her a resentful glance. She smiled winningly at him and patted the bench beside her.

He wilted slightly, then slowly approached her and sat on the bench. He picked idly at the scarlet ribbon she’d wrapped around his wrist, then realized the picking would draw her attention to the fact that he was still wearing it, hours after she’d tied it there. 

He folded his arms. Then he jerked his chin at her wildly colourful skirt. “You borrowed that from Piper.”

She blinked in surprise. “Yes! How did you know?”

“I was with her when she bought it. It was an impulse purchase,” he said dryly. “Dorian encouraged her. She has never worn it.” He eyed the bright, chaotic pattern. “Good to see that her silver is not going entirely to waste.”

Hawke smiled. “Is this your way of saying I look nice?”

Fenris gave her a flat look. “Are you fishing for compliments?”

“Well, I certainly wouldn’t throw it back if you did give me one.” She lifted one shoulder coquettishly and smiled.

He scoffed and looked away from her. They were quiet for a moment, then Fenris glanced at her once more.

Her linen blouse showed off her creamy shoulders, and the short haircut showcased her slender neck. The floaty skirt was full, flaring out to cover most of her legs, but the waist was fitted and admittedly flattering. 

“You do look nice,” he said. Almost _too_ nice, if he was being perfectly honest with himself. If she had gone to Rialto, she’d have caught the roguish eye of many women and men at the Hanged Man, where Piper would inevitably have dragged her. But Fenris wasn’t very well going to say that out loud. If he did, it would sound like he cared about other people being interested in her – which he didn’t. 

Her face brightened with surprise at his blunt compliment, but Fenris wasn’t finished. “It is wasted here. You should have gone to Rialto with the others.” 

She tilted her head. “Fenris, why didn’t _you_ want to go to Rialto?” 

He pursed his lips. There were many reasons he avoided crowded places, but he would stick to the simplest one for now. “It is noisy and crowded there. I prefer quiet.”

“Is that all?”

He raised an eyebrow. “You might find this difficult to believe, but there are some people who prefer the company of few over the company of many.”

“Well, sure,” she said. “But no company at all?”

He frowned and looked away. “I am fine on my own. I told you, I don’t require companionship.” Fenris was far more accustomed to being alone than being around others, and it was better this way. Being on his own was safe. Anyone who got close was someone who could be used against you or taken away from you, or who could simply decide to walk away. 

_Goodbye, Leto._ The memory of Varania’s departure flashed across his mind, and he rubbed his forehead to shake it off. 

Then Hawke spoke again. “It must be strange for you, then, being part of the crew,” she said. “It’s quite cozy quarters here. Not that I’m complaining!” she added as Fenris raised an eyebrow. “I like it. I was quite lonely in Kirkwall before I left, you know. It’s much nicer now, with all these new friends around. And handsome elves.” She gave him a coy look.

Fenris eyed her curiously. She was lonely in Kirkwall before this? But she was so damned friendly. He couldn’t imagine that she didn’t have friends there. 

She tucked her feet up on the bench and leaned toward him. “So who do you like best on the crew?”

He gave her a reproving look. “Gossip. That’s what you wish to do instead of being in Rialto?”

“It’s not gossip!” she protested. “It’s getting to know each other. Now come on, tell me your top three favourite people on the crew.”

He eyed her lovely expectant face, then sighed. She wasn’t going to give up unless he answered her incessant questions.

“I suppose… Piper is one. I owe her for my freedom,” he said. The truth was more complicated than this, however. Fenris was still somewhat leery about the place that Piper seemed to be occupying in his life. She was his employer, certainly, but over the past few months, without any purposeful effort on her part, she’d started edging her way into the gap in his life that Varania’s abrupt departure had left behind. 

This made him uncomfortable. Without meaning to, he’d been letting Piper get close, and it was a risk he shouldn’t be taking. 

He looked down at his hands and ran his thumb over the ribbon on his wrist. “Varric,” he grunted. “I enjoy his sense of humour. And his sense. And Kaaras. Another sensible man, despite his youth.”

Hawke hummed an acknowledgement. “So you do enjoy some people’s company. It just has to be the right people.”

“Is that not what I said before?” he groused.

She shrugged. “It’s what you said, but it’s not how you act.”

He looked down at the ribbon again. Hawke didn’t understand. She didn’t know how unsafe it could be to care for anyone.

It was time to shift the focus back to her. “Who are your favourite people?” he said abruptly. 

She brightened. “Ah, my turn. All right, not including Varric because I knew him from Kirkwall: Piper, Dorian, and you.”

His belly flipped in surprise. “Me?”

“Yes,” she said easily. 

“What… why?” he said dumbly. He wasn’t even particularly nice to her. _Kaffas_ , he’d been actively trying to avoid her for most of the day.

“I’ve never met anyone like you before,” she said. “I think you’re interesting.”

He scowled and shifted slightly away from her. “I am no specimen for you to pick apart, Hawke.”

She chuckled, undeterred by his standoffishness. “Another reason I like you. You’re so prickly.”

It was on the tip of his tongue to refute her, but he stopped himself. She was right. He _was_ prickly. And Hawke’s bright-eyed, brilliant smile only seemed to him feel more prickly than usual. 

“You _like_ that I’m… irritable?” he said.

“Well, you are rather adorable when you scowl,” she said with a grin.

He scowled. “I am not,” he muttered.

She cheerfully ignored him. “Really, though, it’s more the moments when you aren’t prickly,” she explained. “You’re grumpy one minute, but the next thing I know you’re helping me to cut my hair and listening to me while I blather endlessly about myself. Sort of like what you’re doing now.” She let out a sheepish little laugh, then rose to stand at the taffrail facing the town.

He studied her in silence for a moment. He still wasn’t sure exactly what had compelled him to help her cut her hair. It certainly wasn’t something he would have done for anyone. It was such a… such a _personal_ act — standing so close behind her, with the warmth of her scalp beneath his fingers… 

He looked down and picked at the ribbon on his wrist once more. It was odd too that Hawke said she talked endlessly about herself. She was talkative, yes, but without meaning to or wanting to, Fenris had found himself talking to her more than he had to anyone else on the crew.

She sighed happily, and Fenris looked up to find her smiling at the view. “I still can’t really believe I’m here,” she said softly. “It still seems so surreal sometimes that I actually left Kirkwall. Moments like now, for example. Just look at the lights. The bonfires! The people just sitting on the beach without a care!” She laughed and leaned her elbows on the taffrail. “I’ve never seen a city before from on the sea. It’s beautiful.”

Fenris had to admit that he too was surprised at how well she was adjusting to the ship. He would have expected Hawke to have more difficulty adjusting to the hammocks in the shared crew’s quarters, the fluctuating quality of the food, and to the fact that she had to work. 

He rose from the bench and slowly approached her. “You have had no second thoughts about leaving Kirkwall?” he asked.

She shot him a quick skeptical look. “You’ve asked me this before. You really think I’d go back after what I told you? With my mother and all that?”

He bowed his head. “No, I suppose not. I… I apologize, Hawke. It was not my intention to offend.”

Her expression softened into a smile. “It’s all right, Fenris. I’m not offended. And I’m not going anywhere. I like it here on the ship.”

He nodded, and they stood in silence for some time watching the flickering bonfires and listening to the faint strains of music from the beach and the gentle waves licking the sides of the Lady Luck. But the longer they stood at the taffrail, the more awkward Fenris began to feel. 

Hawke had remained here on the ship because of him. He hadn’t asked her to stay, so it wasn’t his fault if she was bored — not that she seemed bored at all; she seemed perfectly content to admire the view. But that didn’t stop Fenris from feeling responsible for the eager look on her face as she gazed out at the bright and crowded beach.

He scowled and rubbed a hand through his hair. It was _not_ his fault that Hawke had stayed behind. He hadn’t asked her to keep him company. He hadn’t asked her to constantly keep approaching him and asking him questions and telling him things about herself that made him want to know more. And yet here they were alone, and she looked so excited and happy to just be _watching_ the Rialto shores, and there was an unpleasant writhing sort of feeling in his gut…

He sighed loudly and folded his arms. “Come on, Hawke. I will take you to Rialto.”

She whipped around to stare at him. “Really?”

“Yes,” he grunted. 

To his surprise, she narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Are you just going to drop me off and then come straight back here?” she asked.

He frowned. “No. I would not leave you unattended in a place such as this. You are unable to defend yourself yet from any attacks.” 

She grinned and fluttered her eyelashes, clearly undaunted by the danger his words implied. “Why, Fenris, if I didn’t know better, I would think you were worried about my safety.”

He snorted. “I _am_ concerned for your safety. The Captain would attempt to skin me if anything happened to you.” He gave her a stern look. “Rialto may appear friendly from a distance, but there are shadows for every merrily burning fire. Do not forget that when we pull into land.” He made his way over to the dinghy and started untying the ropes that kept it in place. 

A moment later, Hawke was kneeling beside him, and her slender fingers were pulling at the ropes as well. Her cheeks were flushed with excitement, and as Fenris watched her from the corner of his eye, she actually giggled. 

He held out a hand to stop her for a moment. “Hawke, listen. You must stay close when we land. Don’t stray from my line of sight. Do you have the dagger I gave you?”

“It’s downstairs in my locker,” she said excitedly. 

He frowned more deeply. “I told you to keep it on your person at all times, even on the ship. Why—”

“I know, I know, it’s just — I’m wearing a skirt, I thought it would look odd…”

He shook his head in exasperation. “You need to fetch the dagger. Wear it on your belt— Hawke, _listen,_ ” he hissed as she hopped to her feet. “Listen to me. There are rules in Rialto, Piper will have told you—” 

“Yes, yes, I know,” she said impatiently. 

He stood up and frowned down at her. “This is important. People in Rialto will approach you. They will speak to you and they will ask you to dance.”

“Oh, that sounds lovely!” she enthused. 

He took a small step closer to her. “They may ask you to do more than just dance,” he said quietly. “They may attempt to court you. They may attempt to force you. You know what I am talking about.” 

Her smile faded slowly, and she wrapped her arms around her middle. “Are you trying to scare me out of this?”

“No,” he said. “I am being practical. You are a beautiful woman, Hawke. People will attempt to possess you. I will teach you to defend yourself, and I will protect you until you can protect yourself. But while we are in Rialto, you need to remember this: if anyone lays a hand on you in a way that you do not want, tell them to stop. If they fail to stop, stab them.” 

Her eyes went wide, and she nervously rubbed her arms. “S-stab them? You don’t think that’s a little bit extreme?”

He shook his head. “You don’t know what it is to have unwanted hands on your skin,” he said. “To lack the power to shove those hands away. I would not have you suffer that.” He bent over the dinghy and carefully began turning it onto its base. “Rialto is dangerous, but Isabela — the Queen of Rialto — she has set these rules for a reason. This rule is one that you _must_ follow, for your own safety. If someone fails to unhand you after you ask, do whatever you need to make them stop.” 

She was quiet, and Fenris glanced over his shoulder to find her somber gaze tracing the stark white lines that curled across his arms and up to his neck. 

His shoulders tensed defensively. “What?”

She lifted her eyes back to his face. “You didn’t want those tattoos, did you?”

He eyed her for a moment, then returned to his task of tying the dinghy to the davit so he could lower it over the side of the ship. “No. I didn’t,” he said brusquely.

After another moment of silence, she spoke again. “I’ll go fetch the dagger,” she said. 

“Good,” he grunted. A few minutes later, the dinghy was waiting in the water, and Hawke was beside him again with the dagger at her waist and her happy smile back in place. 

He huffed softly. She truly was irrepressible. He slid down the rope ladder to the dinghy, then reached out a hand to help her find her footing on the tiny boat. 

She took his hand and gave him a sly little smile as she stepped onto the boat. “So. You think I’m beautiful, then?”

He frowned at her and released her fingers. “What are you talking about?”

“On the ship. You said, ‘you’re a beautiful woman, Hawke.’” She lowered her voice to a deep, mocking baritone, then seated herself primly on a bench and smiled expectantly up at him.

He pursed his lips in annoyance and ignored the heat at the tips of his ears. “It is not a matter of opinion. It is an objective fact,” he muttered. “Besides, I thought you didn’t care if you are seen as beautiful.” 

She chuckled and tucked her feet up beneath her floaty skirt. “Right as always, Fenris.” She shot him a coy look. “For what it’s worth, I think you’re beautiful, too.”

He grunted, then took hold of the oars and began rowing them into the Rialto docks. Hawke spent the short journey gawking at the beach and excitedly pointing out all the things she’d never before seen — which was essentially everything — and Fenris allowed her bright and bubbly voice to drift through his mind as he braced himself for the foray into Rialto.

Truth be told, he didn’t _hate_ Rialto. He certainly enjoyed it more than the Lowtown market; everyone in Rialto was a pirate, so it automatically took some of the attention away from him. But even so, his Tevinter background and the unwanted marks on his skin made him more unique than he would ever be comfortable with. During the rare times he debarked the Lady Luck to join the others in Rialto, he was usually able to keep his head down by hunkering in the corner at the card tables in the Hanged Man. But Hawke would want to see _everything,_ and that would mean following where her whims carried them. 

And so it was with some resignation that he pulled into the docks and tied the dinghy into place. He stepped easily onto the docks, then offered her his hand again to help her from the tiny boat. “All right,” he said. “Remember, you must remain by my side—” 

She hopped onto the docks beside him, then grabbed both of his hands. “Fenris,” she said. “Thank you.”

He looked down at her. Her hands were soft and unmarred by the customary sailor’s calluses and scars, and her smile was brilliant and soft like the light of the moon. 

She squeezed his hands. “You didn’t have to bring me here. I would have stayed on the ship with you all night. But this is… you’re really very selfless,” she said. 

He swallowed hard and stared stupidly at her, unsure how to respond. No one had ever described him as ‘selfless’ before. It wasn’t a word he would even use to describe himself. 

Her smile broadened, and she squeezed his hands again and did a happy little hop. “Maker’s balls, I’m so excited! Where should we go first?”

Her fingers were warm, and her grip was firm. He carefully pulled his hands away, then gestured toward the town. “We can begin at the Hanged Man. Piper will most certainly be there. It is her favourite place in Rialto.” He ushered Hawke along the dock and across the beach, and exactly as he’d predicted, more than a dozen people called out to her with varying degrees of lewdness. 

And exactly as predicted, Hawke waved and smiled to everyone who addressed her, rebuffing the more crass advances with an equally crass joke and flirting cheerfully with anyone who was more polite. 

Fenris walked beside her in silence and ignored anyone who dared to try and flirt with him. A few people jeered at him, calling him a Vint or a knife-ear, and he ignored them just the same; Piper might be one to fight the sort of people who would jeer, but Fenris preferred to keep to himself unless fighting was strictly necessary.

They finally made it to the Hanged Man, and Fenris paused at the door. “This tavern is extremely crowded,” he warned her. “It may be difficult to stay close, but you need to try.”

She was practically shimmying with excitement. “Yes sir! Or aye-aye, or whatever the best term is. Now let’s go on in!” 

He sighed quietly, then eased the door open. An immediate blast of noise and music roared out, and Hawke let out a little squeal of delight before slipping beneath his arm and into the Hanged Man.

He followed her inside and looked around for Piper, then jerked his chin at the noisiest corner of the tavern’s lower floor. “There. At that table.” He huffed in amusement. “And of course, she is arm-wrestling with sailors who are twice her size.”

“She is? Marvelous!” Hawke exclaimed. She stood up on her tip-toes — a futile exercise, given how short she was — then flashed him a brilliant smile. “Come on, let’s join her!” She began to slip through the frothing crowd toward Piper’s table. 

Fenris followed her swiftly, then came to a halt just behind her as she stopped short by the table. “Oh shit,” she breathed. Her eyes were on Piper, whose teeth were fiercely bared as she arm-wrestled with a very swarthy dwarf. A moment later, an enormous cheer went up from the crowd, and Piper surged to her feet with her arms raised victoriously. 

Then her gaze fell on Fenris’s face. “Fen!” she bellowed. Her eyes darted to Hawke, and she slapped the table raucously before pointing at them with a grin. “I knew you’d come! I just knew it! Get the fuck over here, the pair of you!”

Hawke laughed and skipped around the table to give Piper a hug. Piper lifted Hawke off her feet in her enthusiasm, then set her back on the ground and planted her hands on her hips. “Get yourselves a fucking drink and sit down! I’m on a winning streak, can you believe it? Only the Golden Boy here has defeated me.”

Hawke laughed at Cullen. “You arm-wrestled her?”

Cullen grimaced. “She insisted. It was not my idea, I assure you.”

Fenris smirked. Then Piper thrust a tankard into his hand. “Drink up, crew! The night’s just begun!” She handed Hawke another tankard, then lifted her own drink in the air. “To making your own luck, and let tonight be a lucky one for us all!” 

“Cheers!” Hawke called out. She delicately tapped her tankard to Fenris’s, then sipped from her tankard and immediately cleared her throat with a grimace. “Maker, that’s terrible. What is this?”

“It’s tequila!” Piper said cheerfully. “Isabel has it transported here from the drylands. D’you like it?”

Hawke beamed at her. “It’s awful. I adore it.” She drank deeply from her tankard, then shuddered fitfully. 

Fenris watched her with a combination of apprehension and amusement. “Hawke, have you ever drunk alcohol before?”

“Of course!” she said. “There’s always some fancy sparkling wine at bridal showers and weddings.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Sparkling wine. At weddings. That is all you have drunk?”

“Yes,” she said. Then she perked up. “No! There was that one time Carver and I got drunk in the wine cellar at Chateau Haine when I was fourteen or so and he was ten.” 

He raised his eyebrows higher still. “You — what?”

She nodded and sipped her drink. “It was the most frightfully dull party, I can’t tell you. But the adults all seemed so happy, and they kept getting happier as they drank more wine, so I thought, ‘why shouldn’t I be happy too?’ So Carver and I followed a servant back to the wine cellars — oh, and we dragged Bethany with us even though she was whining that we’d get in trouble — and we got terribly drunk.” She chuckled. “Carver threw up, in fact. I managed to keep the contents of my belly to myself, thank you very much.” She nodded pertly, then thoughtfully tapped her chin. “Come to think of it, I’m surprised Duke Prosper wanted to marry me after that. There’s no way he forgot that I was the boorish child who raided his wine cellar eleven years ago.”

Fenris continued to stare at her. “You were set to marry a Duke? That is…”

She wrinkled her nose. “Unfortunate, I know. I’m extremely lucky that you and Piper came back to Kirkwall when you did. The wedding was set for the twentieth of Matrinalis. Just over three weeks from today, in fact.” She beamed at him. “Did you know I’d just had the final fitting for my dress the day you and Piper rescued me?”

He shook his head. “I… no, I wasn’t aware.”

Her eyes widened, and she clapped a hand over her mouth. “Shit, I never told you or Piper why I wanted to run away, did I?” She barked out a laugh. “Well, now you know. Mother was set to marry me off to a man more than twice my age. And who had a rather nasty reputation for, er, _mistreating_ the female servants in his household, shall we say. Such a disastrous idea, making me marry him. All because he had fucking social status and fucking money.” 

Her smile was rather hard now. She sipped from her drink again and glanced at Piper, who was flirting happily with a blushing Cullen, and Fenris stared at her dumbly for a moment. 

“Hawke,” he said.

She turned to look at him. Her copper eyes were wide and brilliant — brilliant with the enthusiasm and joy she took in every new thing she saw, despite the lack of control she’d had over her own life: the life he’d assumed was so simple and charmed…

He swallowed hard. “I… don’t know what to say.” 

She smiled slowly at him, then reached up and gently pinched his chin, and his heart did an odd little flip in his chest. 

“You don’t have to say anything,” she said. “Just drink with me, all right?” 

He watched as she gulped down the rest of her drink, then polished off his own tequila in two large swallows. He placed his tankard on the table and met Hawke’s eye.

She was smiling at him, smiling as she always was, but her smile was soft and fond, and it stalled the breath in his lungs. She was looking at him like she had never seen anyone like him before, but her gaze was not like the stares he had grown reluctantly accustomed to. 

Hawke wasn’t staring at him like he was a freakish novelty. She wasn’t staring at him with fear and resentment and disgust. The way she was looking at him, directly into his eyes like she could see more than he had meant to show… 

He dropped his gaze to his own tattooed hands, and to the ribbon on his wrist. Then Piper appeared between them. 

“Rynne!” she yelled. “Tell me you like to dance. If someone doesn’t dance with me soon, I’m going to start a fight just to get this lazy lot off their feet.” 

Hawke’s eyes went wide with wonder. “We can dance here? What kind of dancing?”

“I must admit to some curiosity about this as well,” Cullen said from his seat on the bench. 

Piper grinned at him. “Not enough curiosity to dance with me, though.”

He winced and rubbed the back of his neck. “I… I’m sorry Piper, I – not tonight, I…”

She chuckled and squeezed his shoulder. “Don’t worry, Golden Boy, you’ll get your chance. Rynne will dance with me tonight though, won’t you?” She hooked her arm around Hawke’s waist. 

“Certainly!” Hawke said. She slung her arm around Piper’s shoulder. “I don’t know what this dance looks like, but I can try!”

Fenris scoffed. “You know nothing of what she is dragging you into, and still you say yes?”

She shrugged happily and propped her fist on her hip. “I won’t know unless I try, will I? Besides, I’m quite well-versed in the waltz and the two-step. That’s a start at least, right?” 

He shook his head. Was there any unknown activity that she wouldn’t jump into headfirst? 

He sat on the bench beside Cullen. “Go on, then. We will see how successful this venture is. Hopefully more successful than your weapons training with me this morning.”

The suggestive comment slipped unfettered from his lips before he could restrain it — no thanks to the tequila, he was sure. To his perverse satisfaction, Hawke’s cheeks began to pinken. 

“Fenris! Such a thing to say to a lady!” she said delightedly.

He smirked and folded his arms. “I thought you were no longer a lady.”

She laughed and fanned her flushed cheeks with her free hand. Then Piper shot him a quizzical look. “What’s all this, then? What happened when you were training this morning?”

“Nothing, nothing!” Hawke trilled. She beamed at Fenris and started pulling Piper away. “Show me this dance, Captain Pipes! I’m not averse to making a fool of myself, but if I can escape with a hint of dignity at least…” 

Piper glanced back at Cullen. “Yell if you need me!” she shouted. “Anything at all, just yell!”

Cullen raised his tankard reassuringly, and they watched as Piper and Hawke skipped off toward the table where the musicians were gathered. Then Cullen spoke to him in a wry tone. “Am I to understand these, er, shenanigans are a regular pastime for Piper’s crew, then?”

Fenris relaxed back and leaned his elbows on the table. “Fairly regular, yes. Every two months or so. Occasionally more often.” He raised one eyebrow at Cullen. “We were last here about three weeks ago. She has made a special exception to bring you here.”

Cullen smiled faintly. “So I understand.” He rubbed his chin for a moment. “It seems that Piper has made quite a few exceptions for my, um, benefit.”

“I suppose she has, yes,” Fenris said. He watched idly as Piper showed Hawke the basic steps for an Antivan jig.

“And that is not a problem for you or the crew?” Cullen said.

Fenris gave him a brief quizzical glance. “Why would you think that?”

“Well, I…” He tapped his tankard nervously. “The laws in Kirkwall being as they are, and the way your kind – pirates, that is to say – the recent changes have not been kind on you. I was expecting more opposition to – er…” He broke off suddenly and rubbed his nose.

Fenris smiled faintly. “No need for concern. She told the officers already that she planned to assist with your return to Kirkwall.”

Cullen sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Ah. Well, yes. I had thought there would be more opposition, given that the anti-piracy laws in Kirkwall have been rather… harsh as of late.”

Fenris scoffed. “I must agree with that. The anti-fraternization law was particularly surprising, given your encounters with Piper in the past.”

Cullen flushed, and Fenris eyed him curiously. It wasn’t unusual for him to blush when Piper was the topic at hand, but he looked more discomfited than simple embarrassment would entail. 

Cullen cleared his throat. “Ah. Yes. I’m afraid I… I am directly to blame for that law.”

Fenris frowned. “What?”

Cullen sighed again, more heavily this time. “Admiral Meredith assigned me to write the anti-fraternization law. I was not given a choice.” He rubbed the back of his neck in agitation. “Piper doesn’t know. Not that I have been hiding it from her, but it… it simply has not come up.”

The music kicked into a lively dancing tune with a driving drumbeat. Fenris, meanwhile, was silent as he considered his reply. He knew that Piper wouldn’t be angry that Cullen wrote the law if Cullen had done so under duress. But that wasn’t what concerned him right now. 

“That law is a slippery slope,” he told Cullen. “It is one step away from execution based on suspicions alone.” 

Cullen rubbed his forehead. “Believe me, Fenris, I am aware. It is one of the reasons I must return to Kirkwall.”

Fenris nodded. Then they both turned their attention to the table where the musicians were seated – the table upon which Piper and Hawke were now madly dancing. Their bare feet and Piper’s mad silver hair and Hawke’s colourful skirt were all flying in a chaotic whirl, and ale was splashing from their tankards onto the table and on the laughing musicians below. 

Fenris smiled. He couldn’t help it. Hawke looked so completely happy as she and Piper pranced and spun on the table, and for the first time tonight, he was glad he’d given in and brought her here. 

“I will miss her,” Cullen said suddenly.

Fenris glanced at him. He was watching Piper dancing with a distinctly melancholy look on his face. 

Fenris turned back to watch the women dancing. “You don’t need to miss her. You know she will find a role for you on the ship if you decide to stay.”

Cullen shot him a surprised look, then returned his gaze to Piper. “I can’t stay. I have a duty. I – no, it is more than duty. I must see that justice is served.”

Fenris frowned slightly. “There is more than one way that justice can be served. Sometimes it is not always the law.”

Cullen smiled – a weak, half-hearted smile. “Did she put you up to telling me that?”

“No,” Fenris said. “But it does not surprise me that she told you the same.”

Cullen’s lips quirked in a wry half-smile, and they returned their attention to Hawke and Piper once more. A dozen more people had cleared a space by the musicians’ table and were now dancing as well, and Fenris could feel his shoulders loosening as he watched the dizzying spin of Hawke’s skirt. 

Then Cullen spoke again. “When I first arrived on the ship, I would have said Lady Rynne should return to Kirkwall with me. But seeing her now…” He shrugged and sipped from his tankard. “She is far more lively here than she ever was at home.”

“The Lady Luck is her home now,” Fenris said. “She will not go back.”

Cullen shot him a quick guarded glance, and Fenris nibbled the inside of his cheek. That had sounded far more vehement than he’d intended. 

A minute later, Hawke and Piper finished their dance and bowed to the cheering crowd. Then Piper waved enthusiastically to Cullen while Hawke threw Fenris a kiss.

Fenris scoffed and folded his arms. He glanced at Cullen to find the commander blushing. 

Cullen met his eye, and he smirked. Then they both chuckled. 

A moment later, the music started up again, but this time with a popular pirate shanty which Piper and Hawke began raucously singing together. Cullen sighed once more. “I am uncertain what to tell Rynne’s mother upon my return. The city is surely in an uproar about her absence.”

_Say nothing,_ Fenris thought instinctively, but he bit his tongue before he could say it out loud. The vindictive part of his mind felt that Hawke’s mother deserved no closure or answers after how she’d treated Hawke. But it was not Fenris’s choice to make that decision. He wasn’t even sure where this protective feeling was coming from. It wasn’t as though Hawke needed protection from her mother, after all. 

He shrugged. “Ask Hawke what she wishes for her mother to know,” he suggested.

Cullen raised his eyebrows. “Of course. I… yes, of course, you’re right.” He shook his head and sipped his drink again. “Thank you, Fenris. Foolish of me not to think of that myself.” 

Fenris nodded an acknowledgment, and they listened quietly as Hawke and Piper – and the rest of the tavern, it seemed – finished singing the shanty, to hearty applause. 

A moment later, a solitary crystal-clear voice cut through the tavern.

_Hush now, my darling_  
_Close your eyes and sleep_  
_Waltzing the waves_  
_Diving in the deep_

_Stars are shining bright_  
_The wind is on the rise_  
_Whispering words_  
_Of long-lost lullabies_

A dizzying chill ran down Fenris’s spine. The singer was Hawke. She was standing on the table with her tankard in both hands, singing an old Free Marcher lullaby while Piper smiled up at her from the bench below. 

_Oh, won't you come with me_  
_Where the moon is made of gold?_  
_And in the morning sun_  
_We'll be sailing_

_Oh, won't you come with me_  
_Where the ocean meets the sky?_  
_And as the clouds roll by_  
_We'll sing the song of the sea_

Fenris swallowed. His mouth was suddenly dry. With every perfectly-sung line that flowed from Hawke’s lush red lips, his throat seemed to swell.

“I take it you didn’t know she could sing?” Cullen said. 

Fenris cleared his throat. He wished he had another drink. “I… no. I didn’t know.”

Cullen nodded. “I understand that she’s been training since she was a child. She used to perform at parties at her parents’ home.” 

Fenris didn’t know what to say to this. His chest felt too full to speak. He glanced over the crowd and politely waved to a serving girl to bring him a drink. A minute later, the serving girl gave him a fresh tankard and a smile, and Fenris nodded and gulped gratefully from the tankard. 

“I suppose I am not the only one who is adversely affected by the anti-fraternization law,” Cullen said.

Fenris tore his eyes away from Hawke to look at Cullen. “What?”

“You and Rynne,” Cullen said. “You seem fond of her. Unless I – perhaps I’m mistaken.” He grimaced and rubbed his chin. 

Hawke’s beautiful lullaby drew to a perfect close. The tavern burst into applause and stomping and whistling, and Fenris sat silently in the roaring noise. 

Then Cullen spoke once more. “In any case, she thinks highly of you. She spoke well of you even before she joined Piper’s ship.”

Fenris looked at him again. “She did?”

“Yes,” Cullen said. “She said you saved her from a group of thugs when she wandered into Lowtown by mistake that one time, a few months back.”  
`  
“Ah,” Fenris said. “No, I… Perhaps my presence helped, but she defended herself. She crushed one man’s toes with the heel of her shoe.” Upon remembering the incident, Fenris felt guilty that he’d doubted Hawke’s ability to learn to protect herself. He’d seen her instinctively defending herself while wearing a fully-petticoated dress and heels, for Maker’s sake. Clearly he had underestimated her.

He swallowed hard and studied her as she flirted with all the admiring men and women who were clamouring around her and Piper. Clearly he didn’t know her at all. 

“She crushed a criminal’s toes with her heel?” Cullen said. 

Fenris nodded. Cullen looked shocked for a moment, then smiled and rubbed his chin again. “Well. It seems that she really is suited to the Lady Luck, after all.”

“So it would seem,” Fenris mumbled. He plucked at the ribbon around his wrist.

Piper suddenly appeared through the crowd and draped her arm around Cullen’s shoulders. “Hello boys,” she drawled. “Stop gossiping about me, I’m standing right here.”

“Swaying, more like,” Fenris retorted. Her movements and her speech were distinctly loose and careless from the booze. 

She grinned lazily at him, then plopped down on the bench between him and Cullen. “Fighting words, those are. Wanna fight me, Fen?” 

“Is that, er, advisable?” Cullen said worriedly. 

“No,” Fenris said. “That is why she’s suggesting it.” He looked around with a frown. “Piper, where is Hawke?”

“She went to get us another round,” Piper said. “Fairly insisted, she did. She’s a tenacious one, isn’t she?” She punched Fenris clumsily in the shoulder. “You’ve got your hands full with her, you do. I think she’ll be good for you.”

Cullen pulled a little face. “Piper, I’m not sure Fenris feels that way about Rynne.”

Piper snorted loudly. “Of course he does. I’ve never seen him smile at anyone as much as he smiles at Hawke. Right, Fen?” She punched him again.

He swatted her hand away, then stood from the bench. “Hawke is not at the bar. Where is she?”

Piper blinked at him. “What d’you mean? She was right there–”

“Hey,” a guttural voice interrupted. “You’re that Commander from Kirkwall, aren’t ye? The one who enforces all them rules.”

Fenris glanced over. A large and angry-looking man was standing over Cullen with a scowl.

Cullen straightened. “Yes, I–”

The angry stranger punched Cullen in the jaw. Half a second later, Piper was on her feet on the bench. 

“Don’t fucking touch him!” she hollered. She kneed the thug directly in the gut, then boxed his ear as he doubled over to grab his winded stomach. 

“Piper!” Cullen yelled. 

Piper was snarling at Cullen’s assailant, who was on his knees now and clutching his ear and his belly both. Unfortunately, their opponent appeared to have a handful of friends who looked just as resentful and just as raring for a fight. 

Varric hurried over with Dorian in his wake. “What’s Piper done this time?”

“It is not her doing for once,” Fenris said tersely. His chest was jangling with agitation. “Help her. I have to…” He trailed off and shoved past Varric toward the bar. He’d told Hawke she needed to stay close. He’d _told_ her. Why hadn’t she listened?

Where the fuck had she gone?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH NO A CLIFFHANGER!! It's okay, the next chapter will be out on Sunday!
> 
> A few inspirational song mentions for this chapter:  
> \- [ “Song of the Sea”,](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Uen59x1NBRs) the lullaby Rynne sings in this chapter.  
> \- [The third-class party song from Titanic,](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TBz_mMeSR7Y) which is basically what Schoute and I imagine Piper and Rynne dancing to on the table.  
> \- [The Hanged Man music from DA2,](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qdc6nOKZWdw) which is just nice and ambient.  
> \- [ “Here’s A Health To The Company,”](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ya3MCYeGXCQ) the title of the BEAUTIFUL ART for this chapter, and is just fitting as hell. 
> 
> Join us on Tumblr! Your diabolical treat of an artist Schoute is [here,](https://schoute.tumblr.com/) and your humble obsessive writer (i.e. ME) is [here!](https://pikapeppa.tumblr.com/)


	10. Rialto: The Night Ends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh hey, fic rating changed to Explicit.

###  RYNNE 

Rynne pulled on her borrowed boots, then slipped carefully through the crowd toward the bar, excited to buy drinks for the first time at a pirate tavern. She knew Fenris had said to stay close, but she could hardly get into any trouble just by standing at the bar, especially not when he and Piper and Cullen were only about twenty paces away.

“Hello there. Haven’t seen you in these parts before,” a husky voice purred.

Rynne turned to find herself facing the most beautiful woman she’d ever seen. Her black hair was lush and wavy, and her body was lush and wavy too, and her heavy gold jewelry only served to highlight the warmth of her chestnut skin.

Rynne’s eyes widened. “You must be Queen Isabela! Piper told me all about you. It’s lovely to meet you. And, well, to look at you, if I’m being honest.” She curtsied, then gave Isabela a salacious once-over. 

Isabela let out a throaty laugh. “Aren’t you a sweet thing?” she said. She took a step closer to Rynne. “Right you are, though. I’m Isabela. You’re a new member of Piper’s crew, hmm?”

“That’s right,” Rynne said proudly. “I’m the assistant surgeon. I was quite rubbish at everything else, I can tell you.”

Isabela laughed again, then propped a hand on her curvy hip. “We’ll see each other around, then. Piper and I often meet on the sea. Get in the odd scrap here or there, you know how it is.” 

“You get into scraps with Piper?” Rynne said in surprise. “She said you two were friends.”

“We are,” Isabela said easily. “It’s all a friendly competition, you know? Honour among thieves is the best kind of honour.” She took a step back. “Well, I’ve got to go. Holler if you need anything, sweet thing. I like to keep the newcomers coming back for more.” She winked. 

“Good,” Rynne said smoothly. “Because I can be _very_ greedy.”

Isabela grinned, then turned and sashayed away. Rynne chuckled to herself, then continued on her path toward the bar. 

She leaned over the bar and smiled at the bartender. “Pardon me!” 

The bartender waved distractedly at her while simultaneously pouring three drinks with his free hand. “Be with you in a moment, sweetheart,” he called back.

She nodded, then settled back to wait. A minute later, a large and hairy hand appeared beside her on the bar.

She looked up at the equally large and hairy owner of the hand and smiled. “Hello there. Having a good evening?”

He smiled smarmily at her. “Better now that I’m looking at you, darling.”

A ripple of apprehension ran down her spine. She recognized that look on his face. She was more accustomed to seeing it on the faces of the richest and most smug noblemen in Kirkwall, but it translated the same way on the face of this beefy gentleman. 

And on his two slightly-less-beefy friends who were looming just behind him.

She kept her smile in place and tilted her head. “That’s kind of you to say.” She looked pointedly at the bartender, but he was fully engaged in a conversation with one of the barmaids who was holding a tray of broken glass.

Then she jumped slightly as the beefy fellow spoke quietly into her ear. “You smell real nice, love. That some perfume you’re wearing?”

She swallowed hard to quell her disgust. “It is, in fact,” she said brightly. “I borrowed it from my friend, Mad Piper. Do you know of her?”

The beefy man leaned back and scowled, and one of his friends snorted. “The rabbit captain,” he said in an Orlesian accent.

“Careful,” the other friend said. “Mad Piper is… well, mad. _And_ she’s friends with the Queen. We can’t piss ‘em off.”

Rynne smiled hopefully at the cautious man. “A wise one, you are,” she said. She blinked innocently at the beefy man, who was looming over her now with a rather unflattering glower. “Why don’t I just skip on over to her and find out where Mad Piper bought the perfume I’m wearing? Then you can buy a bottle for yourself. It might do you some good.” 

The Orlesian man whistled, and the cautious one grimaced. The beefy man narrowed his eyes and took a step closer to her. “What did you say to me?”

_Something stupid,_ Rynne thought sadly. It wasn’t much good adopting Piper’s bravado if she didn’t have the combat skills to back it up. 

She smiled innocently at the beefy man. “I was simply agreeing with you. It’s a lovely perfume. I’ll find out where she got it and get back to you, shall I?” She swiftly darted under his arm and started to sneak through the crowd back to Piper’s table. 

He grabbed her arm. “You’re not going anywhere, whore.” 

_Fuck,_ Rynne thought. Feigning innocence wasn’t working as she’d hoped it would. Looked like she would have to use Fenris’s approach.

She looked up at the beefy man. “Let me go. Now.” 

He roughly pulled her closer. “And if I don’t?”

She narrowed her eyes and ignored her racing heart. “I’ll scream for Isabela. And she’ll kick you out of here and straight back to the ass-end of whatever backwater town you came from.”

The beefy man’s lip curled in anger, revealing a set of terrible broken teeth. Behind her, the Orlesian man laughed nastily. “ _Merde_. She’s a feisty one, she is.”

The beefy man roughly tugged her arm, pulling her off balance so she stumbled into his malodorous body. “Yeah, she is. I ought to teach her a lesson.”

_Fuck fuck fuck,_ Rynne thought. She carefully took a deep breath to control her panic. Her dagger was heavy at her back and waiting to be grabbed, but the Orlesian man was just behind her, and she didn’t think she could unsheathe the blade before he stopped her…

So she did the only thing she could think of. She jumped up and slammed the crown of her head into her assailant’s nose. 

An instantaneous wave of pain rippled across the top of her skull. More importantly, her captor yelped in surprise and agony and released her arm. Heedless of the pain in her now-throbbing skull, Rynne bolted down the first corridor she saw, completely in the opposite direction of Piper’s table.

_Stupid stupid stupid,_ she thought. But it was too late now to turn around; she could hear shouting behind her, that big stupid beefy man and his nasty Orlesian friend, and if she tried to go back to Piper’s table now, they’d certainly nab her before she made it. 

She hurried through the halls looking for someplace to hide. She seemed to have found herself in the inn section of the lower level; it was quieter here, which helped her to hear if anyone was pursuing her, but the lack of people meant she couldn’t get lost in a crowd, which was unfortunate.

Even more unfortunate when she stumbled straight into the Orlesian man.

“Shit,” she blurted. Then she gasped as he shoved her back against the wall. 

She reached behind her back, only to find her sheath empty. Then the Orlesian man held up her dagger. “Looking for this?” he said silkily.

Rynne wilted. “Son of a nug-fucking bitch,” she muttered. 

The Orlesian man’s eyebrows rose, and he laughed and took a step closer to her. “Not the sweet little flower you seem, are you?” he said. He placed one hand on her hip and carefully laid the tip of her dagger against the base of her ribs, and a rash of goosebumps rippled over her skin — at the cold touch of metal on her midriff, certainly, but more from the horrible feel of his hand on her bare skin.

She bit the inside of her cheek. This was what Fenris had been talking about — unwanted hands on her body. She’d rather have a sword to her neck then this disgusting man’s hand on her skin. 

He stroked her hip with his thumb, and she tried hard to hide her revulsion and gave him a frank look. “Listen. You seem like a reasonable sort of man. It rather makes me wonder why you’re following that other fellow around.”

He frowned. “Excuse me?”

She shrugged. “He just seems a candle short of a chandelier, if you catch my meaning. I’m a little bit surprised that you aren’t the one running the show. You’re certainly better-looking than he is.” She slid a suggestive look from his dirty Orlesian half-mask down to his faded silk trousers. 

“You’re trying to trick me,” he accused. Despite his words, his frown lessened slightly, and so did the tip of his dagger in her side.

His hand was still on her hip, though. She blinked beguilingly. “I’m not. You truly are the better-looking one.” It wasn’t a lie, after all. A golem would be more handsome than that horrible beefy thug. 

The Orlesian lifted his chin and gazed at her thoughtfully. Then she kneed him directly in the balls. 

He grunted and doubled over, and Rynne shoved him away. But before she could dart around him, his hand snapped out and grabbed her wrist. “ _Putain de salope,_ ” he hissed. 

Rynne frantically twisted her arm, but his grip was painfully tight. “Let me go!” she shouted, to no avail; he pulled her toward him, and toward the dagger that was still clenched in his other hand. 

She screamed and struggled more fitfully. Then the Orlesian man suddenly released her. 

She stumbled back, then clapped her hands over her mouth in shock. Blood was spilling from a deep cut across the front of his windpipe — the kind of cut that Fenris said could kill a man slowly and painfully as he choked on his own blood. 

“M-maker’s fucking balls,” she gasped.

“Hawke,” Fenris snapped.

She jumped in shock, then clutched her chest in relief as he stepped out of the shadows. “Fenris!” she squeaked. “Fuck, shit, fuck fuck, I didn’t mean to — they — I went the wrong way—” 

He sheathed his own dagger, then stepped around the dying Orlesian and held out his hand. “Come,” he snapped. “Now.” 

She gratefully grabbed his hand, then followed him as he ran silently through the halls. At one point he stopped short and held a finger to his lips, and Rynne bit her own lip; it was the beefy man’s voice. 

“Louis better have fucking found them,” he said. His speech sounded oddly muffled. “That whore thinks her knife-eared pet can stop me? She’ll see what happens to bitches and elves who talk back to me.” 

Hawke looked at Fenris in surprise. “Did you hit him?”

“Yes,” he gritted. “Not mortally, unfortunately. I did not wish to be thrown out of the Hanged Man before I found you.” He jerked his chin at the end of the hall. “Go,” he whispered. “In the back corner. Hide yourself in the shadows.”

She followed his directions, wishing that she wasn’t wearing such a brightly coloured skirt; it would be hard to hide, even in the shadows. She turned to face Fenris as he approached her. “What do we—” 

He crowded her back into the corner and shielded her with his body. “Be quiet,” he muttered. 

Rynne obeyed. She couldn’t talk even if she wanted to, because all of a sudden she couldn’t catch a breath. Fenris was close to her, so close that she could feel the heat of his skin where his faded tunic laid his chest bare, and the sheer nearness of his body was enough to stop her lungs from working. 

Her heart was still pounding, but the beat felt different now: a flutter in her chest rather than a panicked rhythm. Fenris was closer to her than that nasty Orlesian man had been, but this was completely different. This was — Maker’s balls, this was _Fenris_ , and he was so close to her, and if he was to put his hand on her hip, she definitely wouldn’t tell him to move it away.

He was utterly still as he peered sideways over his shoulder, and Rynne couldn’t stop staring at his neck. There was a light sheen of perspiration on his skin, and she was seized with a sudden urge – a very improper urge – to run her tongue along the twisting white lines on his throat and taste the salt of his skin.

She pressed her lips together and closed her eyes. If he didn’t step away from her soon, she was going to make a complete fucking fool of herself. 

A moment later, the clumsy footsteps of two large men thundered closer. The beefy one was still drunkenly slurring threats about her. “If I get my hands on that little whore, I’ll teach ‘er a lesson. Don’t you doubt it.”

Fenris let out a soft growl of anger, and Rynne swallowed hard. She should probably still be scared, but Fenris’s rough little growl was making her feel things that were distinctly _not_ fear-related.

“Come on, mate. She’s not worth it.” The cautious friend seemed to be trying for another go at logic. “If the Queen finds out—” 

The beefy man snorted. “Fuck the Queen. She’s just some uppity Rivaini whore.” 

There was the sound of a fleshy _thump_ , then the cautious man spoke again. “Shut your bloody trap. You’ll get us thrown out of the city.” 

The beefy man growled at his friend, but finally their voices moved away. Rynne and Fenris stayed silent for a moment longer until the hall was quiet once more.

Fenris released his breath. “What did I tell you?” he snapped. 

She opened her eyes to find him glaring at her. He looked angrier than she’d ever seen, and for some reason, it made her want to melt into a besotted puddle on the floor. 

“Um,” she said, very intelligently. 

Thankfully, Fenris didn’t seem to be expecting an answer. “I told you to stay close,” he scolded. “And I told you to use that dagger if anyone failed to unhand you when you asked. Why didn’t you stab them? Any of them?”

She swallowed hard. His chest was heaving with angry breaths, and it was extremely distracting. “I-I… I was going to, but I…”

“Never hesitate,” Fenris said forcefully. “I told you that before. An enemy will smell your hesitation, and he will not fail to take advantage of it.” Suddenly he looked down at his chest.

Rynne looked down as well, and a rush of embarrassment heated her cheeks. Her hand seemed to have decided of its own volition to take hold of the gaping collar of his tunic, and her thumb was touching his chest.

His chest. Her thumb. She was touching his chest with her thumb. He was breathing hard and his eyes were on her face and she was staring at his lips, and – and his _chest_ –

She grinned at him, then burst into giddy laughter. Whether it was relief or attraction or just the ridiculousness of the entire situation, Rynne couldn’t decide, but suddenly she was laughing so hard she could barely breathe.

“What is so funny?” he demanded.

“Nothing,” she gasped. “Absolutely nothing. I’m just an idiot.” Her fingers were still twisted in his tunic, and she boldly released the fabric to splay her hand on his exposed chest instead. “I think you should yell at me more when you’re training me. I feel like I’m _really_ learning a lot right now.”

He grabbed her hand. “This is not a joke. Did you not see the look in their eyes? They had one thing in mind when they approached you. If I hadn’t spotted them attacking you—” 

He broke off and clenched his jaw. Then Rynne realized that his hand was shaking. 

Her giddiness abruptly faded into guilt. She took his hand in both of hers. “Fenris, I’m sorry. I meant to stab that huge nasty fellow, really I did, but I couldn’t have grabbed my dagger in time, and then that fucking Orlesian had it — really, that just seems unfair that he could take my dagger without me knowing. Is that allowed?”

“This is Rialto. Almost everything is allowed,” he retorted. He ran his free hand through his hair, then rubbed his mouth.

She laid one hand gently on his chest. “Hey, It’s all right. I’m fine. That one fellow got his comeuppance, and we’ll tell Isabela about the big burly one, and… and it’s no harm done, right?”

He peeled her hand away from his chest. “No harm done? This was an appallingly close call,” he snapped. “There could have been immense harm. You shouldn’t have…” He trailed off and scrubbed a hand through his hair, and Rynne tilted her head. 

“Fenris, what’s the problem? All I did was go to the bar,” she said quietly. “It’s not my fault those men were such assholes.”

“I know that,” he growled.

“Then why are you so angry at me?” she asked.

He clenched his jaw again. “I am not — it is not your fault. It is just…” He breathed deeply through his nose, then shook his head. “This was too much of a risk. We should have remained on the ship.”

Rynne wilted in exasperation. “Fenris, everything has some element of risk. If I never took any risks, I’d never have left Kirkwall at all, and we wouldn’t even be here together.” She tilted her head coyly. “I don’t know about you, but I’m glad I’m here with you.”

He looked away from her and didn’t reply, and Rynne waited, hoping for him to say he was happy to be here with her too. When no such response was forthcoming, she pushed away her disappointment and blithely pressed on.

“So it’s risky leaving the ship,” she said in a matter-of-fact tone. “It’s also risky being _on_ the ship, as you said yourself. Everything is risky. So we’ll make it less risky.” 

“How?” he grunted.

She shrugged. “Keep teaching me. Keep training me. I’ll get better, all right? I’ll work hard and I’ll get better at everything, then you won’t have to come rescuing me all the time. Don’t get me wrong, the rescuing is extremely appealing,” she winked at him, “but sooner or later it’s going to get tiresome for us both.”

He shook his head slightly and refused to look at her, so she took a tiny step closer to him. “Just teach me, Fenris. I’ll learn anything. I told you, I’m a fast learner.”

He finally looked at her, and a shiver of heat trickled down her throat. His eyes were so… so fucking green. And so intense. 

And she was suddenly very aware that he was still holding her hand. 

For a long, tense moment, she stared gormlessly at the endless forest green of his eyes. Then he broke the moment by releasing her hand and taking a step away from her.

“I am not afraid of taking risks, you know,” he said.

Rynne eyed him. His voice was suddenly very hard. “I didn’t say you were,” she said carefully.

“You didn’t need to,” he retorted. “I know you think I am overly cautious. That I take no joy in anything because of the risks involved.”

She raised her eyebrows. “I don’t think that, actually. I think that _you_ think that about yourself, though, now that you’re saying it.”

He scowled at her, then folded his arms. An awkward moment later, he spoke again. “You wish to know what I enjoy doing in Rialto?”

She perked up. “Ooh, yes. I really do,” she said. 

He scoffed and looked away. A moment later, he looked at her again, and Rynne beamed at him in relief. 

His scowl was gone. He wasn’t mad anymore, then. 

He dropped his hands to his sides and jerked his head down the hall. “Come on, then. This way.”

She happily hurried along beside him as he made his way toward the noisy main tavern. His hands were loose at his sides, and Rynne desperately wanted to reach out and hold his hand again, but she got the sense that now wouldn’t be a good time. She’d just barely managed to coax him back into a decent mood, and she was loathe to ruin it by touching him when he didn’t want to be touched.

It was so hard not to touch him, though. Rynne was a very touchy-feely person, but the way she wanted to touch Fenris, and the way she wanted him to touch her in turn… She’d never felt this way about anyone before, and she didn’t know what to do about it, or if she even should do anything about it. 

For the umpteenth time since her glorious accidental barge-in this morning, an image of Fenris’s beautiful half-naked body flashed through her mind. Imagine if he ever let her run her hands over that hard, sun-bronzed body of his. Imagine him running his own callused, sun-bronzed hands along her legs – legs that had never been touched by anyone before… 

_His fingers on my neck_. Suddenly she remembered their training session that morning, and a roaring flash of heat warmed her belly and her cheeks. Maker’s balls, she really hadn’t been expecting him to touch her, and when his fingers traced across her throat like that –

_Shut up, Rynne,_ she scolded herself. He hadn’t meant anything by it. He’d been trying to teach her self-defense, for fuck’s sake, nothing more. 

She glanced at him, hoping that he wouldn’t notice her blushing. He shot her a brief sideways look, then raised one eyebrow. “What?”

“Nothing,” she chirped. She pushed aside her shamelessly filthy thoughts. There was no point in fantasizing when she didn’t know if Fenris even liked her in the first place. Sometimes he was so thoughtful and attentive, and other times he was snapping at her like she was a complete fool. He’d spent the whole afternoon ignoring her, but the look on his face this morning when they were watching dolphins had made her want to kiss him. 

_Kissing,_ she thought ruefully. Yet another activity she didn’t know how to do. 

Maybe Fenris could teach her how to do that someday. 

She stifled the nervous laugh that was burbling at the back of her throat, then shoved her silly thoughts aside and followed him into the main room of the tavern. For now, she’d just enjoy whatever activity he had in store.

###  PIPER 

Piper folded her arms and cocked her head at the hulking human men who were crowding around her table. “What, you all want a go?” She stood up on the table and gestured dismissively at the idiot who had sucker-punched Cullen in the jaw. “This is what I’m handing out tonight, if anyone wants a taste.”

An aggressive sort of murmur rose from the gathered men, and Cullen patted her foot. “Er, Piper, perhaps this isn’t the wisest plan.”

She frowned at him. His clean-shaven jaw was reddening already from where that asshole had struck him. “On the contrary, Cullen. These fellows need to know who they can mess with here.” She straightened and looked at the motley crowd of thugs, then pointed at Cullen. “Anyone who wants to fight this man goes through me first,” she shouted.

The men jeered, and Cullen patted her foot more urgently. “Piper, please. This is _not_ necessary.”

She bent down slightly and lowered her voice. “It is,” she said quietly. “It’s like trying to tame a wild mabari. You have to show them who’s the alpha. And tonight, that alpha is me.” 

He frowned, and Piper smiled; she knew he was trying to be stern, but his frown only succeeded in making him look more worried. She patted his cheek gently and hopped down to the floor, then nearly stumbled as the room wavered around her. “Now come on, then, who’s first?”

“Piper—” Cullen protested.

“Me!” A burly blond man stepped forward from the crowd and settled into a fighting stance, and the nearby crowd instinctively widened into a ring around them.

Piper ignored the crowd and smiled at her opponent. “All right, poppet, let’s see what you’ve got.” The room might be spinning and throwing off her balance, but there was no way this hulking human was faster than her, and speed was what really mattered here.

He lunged at her, and she nimbly dodged beneath his arm and bumped him with her hip. He stumbled clumsily, and a jeering laugh rose from the crowd.

Piper grinned at her challenger. “Come on, come on. I haven’t got all night.”

He snarled at her, then lunged again, and Piper continued to dodge around him, bumping him with her hips and slapping him lightly on the ass and the back of the head to make him angry and careless. Finally, when he was huffing and puffing like an exhausted bronto, she stood still and allowed him to lunge at her once more. 

Sure enough, he charged toward her, and she slammed the heel of her hand into his nose. He dropped to his knees with blood flooding from both nostrils.

A cheer rose from the crowd, and Piper did a little victory dance before glancing at the table. 

Cullen looked absolutely flabbergasted. Varric and Dorian were standing beside him looking respectively resigned and amused, and Piper relaxed slightly; if anyone decided to play dirty and go at Cullen when he wasn’t looking, Varric and Dorian would have his back.

She grabbed her tankard from the table. “All right, lads! Who’s next?” she called out.

“I’ll get you, wench,” a swarthy dwarf grunted. He stepped from the crowd and cracked his bulky knuckles. 

_Ah, a dwarf,_ she thought. She’d have to change her strategy a bit. She casually lifted her tankard to her lips, and while gulping the rest of her drink, she waved for her dwarven challenger to approach.

His eyebrows rose in shock, and a laugh went up from the crowd at her taunting gesture. Then he sneered and took two confident steps toward her. 

She dodged around his side just out of his reach, then kicked her booted foot at the back of his knee, and he stumbled to his knees. 

Piper cackled. “Up you get, poppet. That can’t be all you’ve got.”

He shoved himself upright and bolted toward her, and she dodged away from his hands at the last minute. She kept up her strategy of keeping just out of reach of his shorter limbs and kicking at his knees to slow him down, then finally dodged in close and kneed him in the belly, knocking the wind from his lungs and landing him hands-first on the floor. 

Another cheer rose from the crowd, and Piper planted her hands on her hips. “All right,” she panted, “Who’s—” 

“I am,” said a black-haired elven man. He stepped forward and backhanded her across the face. 

A white-hot shock of pain ripped across her cheek, and Cullen shouted her name. “ _Piper!_ ”

She held up a hand to hold Cullen back and gingerly dabbed the inside of her cheek with her tongue. This asshole had made her bite the inside of her cheek. 

She smiled at him. “Cheap shot, that,” she said, and she spat a gobbet of blood into his face. 

He stumbled back in disgusted surprise, and Piper ran straight at him and kicked him right in the knee. She heard the _pop_ of the joint and grinned as he howled in pain, then slapped him hard across the face. “Tit for tat, boy,” she said, and she slapped him once more for good measure.

The crowd were cheering and laughing now, and Piper woozily faced them with a grin. She knew she probably had blood in her teeth, but it was all for the best; she was getting pretty tired now, and the crazier she looked, the less likely it was that anyone else would challenge her. 

Not to say she wouldn’t fight them if they kept on coming. She absolutely would. She’d just need another drink, that was all. 

She shoved her sweaty hair back from her face and propped her fists on her hips. “Now, who th’fuck is next—”

She suddenly stumbled forward as a scuffle broke out right behind her legs. She clumsily found her footing and looked down, and her jaw dropped in shock. “Cullen?” she said incredulously. 

He seemed to have tackled a large, beefy man in the crowd, and was now subduing the man with one knee in the middle of his back. “Don’t move,” he barked at his wriggling captive. He glared up at Piper. “This man was about to strike you when you weren’t looking.” 

“‘Ey, it’s that Commander from Kirkwall! Get him!” A loud, slurred voice yelled out from the crowd, and two human men lunged at Cullen.

“No you don’t!” Piper snapped, and she bolted toward them in a chaotic flurry of fists and teeth and knees, and suddenly the crowd was pressing in around them and joining in the brawl.

“Piper!” Cullen yelled, but she couldn’t see him anymore; all she could see was a mass of bodies. She shoved and pinched and punched every limb and body part she could see, hoping she would eventually spot the cream and tan colours of Cullen’s shirt and vest. 

Someone suddenly grasped her arm and pulled. “Hey!” she snapped, and she shoved at the fingers gripping her arm. “Hands off, fucker—”

“Piper, it’s me,” Cullen gasped. “Please, come with me.” 

She simultaneously tried to pat him reassuringly and push him away. “No, Cullen, I need to defend your — your honour and all that,” she said, and she kicked at another random person in the mad crowd of fighting bodies. 

Then she yelped in surprise as Cullen lifted her off her feet and hoisted her over his shoulder. Before she could utter another word of protest, Cullen was carrying her toward the door and out into the relatively-cooler night air. 

“Cullen, go back!” she squawked. “I forgot my drink!” 

“You finished your drink,” he said without slowing down. A minute later, he set her on her feet on the boardwalk where the town bordered the beach. 

She planted her fists on her hips and frowned up at him. “Why’d you do that? It was — _hic_ — all under control. Now they’ll all think I ran away from a brawl.” She lifted her chin defiantly. “Mad Piper never runs from a brawl.”

“I doubt any of them are thinking much at all,” Cullen said wryly. “They’re all considerably drunk. More than you, even, and that is saying something.” He gently lifted her chin. “Are you all right? That elven gentleman struck you rather hard.”

She felt the cut in her mouth with the tip of her tongue. It wasn’t bleeding anymore, so it was fine. “I got him back twice as hard,” she told Cullen. “That’s what really matters. C’mon, I’ll just rinse out my mouth with some seawater to clean it.” She grabbed his hand and tugged him along the beach toward the shore.

She released his hand and crouched so she could cup some saltwater in her hands, then promptly fell knees-first into the lazily lapping tide. “Fuck!” she exclaimed, then burst into laughter as she settled on her knees in the wet sand. “Fuck,” she chuckled, then slurped some saltwater and swished it painfully around in her mouth before spitting it back into the sea.

Cullen offered her a hand, and she blearily accepted his help to stand up. When she lifted her lazy eyes to look at his handsome face, it was to find him with that awful sad look on his face again.

“Don’t go,” she blurted. Then she immediately wanted to slap herself. 

His eyebrows jumped high on his forehead. “Pardon?”

_Fuck,_ she thought. She hadn’t meant to say that. She was trying not to pressure him about joining the Lady Luck. She didn’t want him to join because she’d asked, after all; she wanted him to join because it’s what _he_ wanted to do. But she just hated seeing him looking all sad and wistful when he looked at her — like their idyllic time together was already coming to an end, even though the journey back to Kirkwall would take about a week. 

She hated it, because it made _her_ feel sad and wistful. It was so lovely having him around, and… and she didn’t want to miss him. It was too painful to miss the people you cared about. It was why Piper usually didn’t bother getting too close to anyone who wasn’t on her crew. 

But Cullen was an exception. The only exception she could ever remember, if she was honest. And when she dropped him off in Kirkwall, he’d be taking a piece of her with him whether he knew it or not, and that thought really hurt. 

_Just ask him to stay,_ her drunken mind suggested. She struggled to shape her booze-soaked tongue into coherent words. “Don’t… I mean… after you fix everything in Kirkwall and Meredith isn’t the boss anymore, you should… um…” 

She trailed off, and Cullen stared at her, and she wanted to smack herself. _Just say it, you fucking idiot,_ she thought. _Don’t be so lily-livered._

She took a deep breath and looked him straight in the eye. “Stay with me. With us,” she corrected hastily. “On the Lady Luck. You… you should stay with us and join the crew.”

He opened his mouth, and Piper grabbed his hand in both of hers before he could speak. “Think about it. Just consider it. There would be so much for you to do,” she said eagerly. “You… you could be the quartermaster!”

“But Varric is your quartermaster,” he protested.

“He doesn’t like being the quartermaster,” Piper said. “I know he doesn’t. He likes some parts of it, like documenting everything and managing supplies and sales, but not the commanding-officer parts.” She squeezed Cullen’s hand. “You would be perfect for those. And you wouldn’t have to be in charge of _everything_ , since that’s my job. You could spend a lot of time just enjoying yourself on the ship. It would be perfect for you.”

He took a deep breath. That awful tragic look was still on his face. “Piper, I… I don’t know if I can do that.”

“You can’t know unless you try,” she reasoned. “Remember what I said? You can join me for a bit, then go back to Kirkwall if you don’t like being on the Lady Luck. No one stays on the Lady Luck who doesn’t want to be there. It’s part of my code.” She tried for a mischievous smile. “Which you would get to read if you stayed with us.”

He swallowed hard, then gave her a smile that was somehow sadder than his tragic frown. “Why are you so kind to me?”

She wrinkled her nose at him. “What kind of stupid fucking question is that? Of course I’m kind to you.”

“You needn’t be,” he said. “I… you’re a pirate, and I’ve… I’ve killed many pirates in my time with the navy.” He shook his head. “I used to hate pirates, Piper. You know this. I’ve…” He broke off, then took her hands in his and squeezed them. “You have no reason to be so kind to me.”

She gave him a fond but exasperated look. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. You’re trying to learn who we are, and you don’t hate us anymore, right?”

“No,” he said. He ran his thumbs over the backs of her hands. “No, I… no, I don’t. In fact, I — well, that is…” He cleared his throat, and even by the pale light of the moon, Piper could see his cheeks flushing. 

A surge of excitement kicked her heart into a gallop. He was blushing, and he looked so awkward, and she could tell exactly what was on his mind, and she wanted him to say it so badly—

And she was drunk, and her tongue was too eager to wait for him to say it first. “I like you, Cullen,” she blurted.

He gaped at her. “Y-you do?”

“Of course, you silly handsome human,” she said. She twined her fingers with his. “I _really_ like you. I think you’re…” She stopped herself. _Wonderful_ was the word on her mind, but she was just sober enough to know how much of a sop that would make her sound.

“You’re good. You’re loyal and kind and patient, and you’re fair, and that’s so… so important.” She swallowed hard as she gazed at his beautiful face. His eyes were shining now, and he was looking more tragic than ever, and Piper hated it. 

She released one of his hands. “Come on, enough of this sap. We need more drinks,” she announced, then started pulling him back along the beach toward the Hanged Man. 

“More drinks?” he said. “Is that wise?”

“No,” Piper said cheerfully. “But it’s fun, and that’s what counts!” She slipped through the crowds, pulling Cullen along by the hand, then made a beeline for the bar and ordered two tankards of port. 

She handed Cullen his tankard, then raised her own. “To you,” she said seriously. “And to thinking about joining the Lady Luck. _Thinking_ about it, at least,” she said insistently. “Will you?”

He nodded slowly. “I will. I promise.”

She smiled at him. A promise from Cullen was worth more than gold. “Perfect,” she said, and she clanked her tankard against his and drank her port in five big gulps. 

The night took on a distinctly fuzzy quality after that. Piper remembered dancing some more, this time with Dorian and Isabela in a wild twirling jig on the floor, and she remembered singing ‘A Health To The Company’ with Kaaras and the rest of the crew while Cullen smiled and shook his head. She traded insults and threw dice with Varric and Sera, and at some point she could have sworn she saw Cole standing behind the bar just staring at everyone, but most of all — best of all — was Cullen, who spent the rest of the night by her side with a tankard in his hand and a smile on his face. 

At some uncertain hour of the night, she was leaning over the table and grabbing for the dice when she lost her balance and almost fell right on her ass on the floor. But before she could hit the straw- and peanut-shell-littered ground, Cullen’s strong hands caught her.

She giggled woozily as he helped her to her feet, then leaned into his lovely hard chest. “D’you want another round? Bela’s imported this smashing pale ale from Markham that I think you’ll really like.”

He gave her pleading look. “Piper, I… I know you won’t like this, but—”

“You think I should stop drinking,” she finished.

He winced slightly. “Well, yes. I’m afraid you may not be able to walk on your own if you continue in this vein.”

She rolled her eyes and tried to push away from him. “Walking’s overrated. I can crawl.”

On the other side of the table, Dorian chuckled and elbowed Varric. “She can indeed. Do you recall the time she crawled all the way from the beach up to the second floor of this filthy establishment?”

Varric chuckled and threw the dice. “Sure do. I’m still surprised nobody stepped on her while she was crawling across the floor.”

Cullen stared at her in surprise. “You didn’t… really?”

“I do what I need to,” she said defiantly. “Watch.” She carefully stepped away from the stability of Cullen’s chest, then started bending toward the ground. 

He hastily grabbed her hips and pulled her upright. “Er, no, that’s all right,” he said quickly. “Let’s, er, I will help you to walk. The second floor, you said? That is where you stay for the night when you come here?”

“Yup,” Piper said, then tried — and failed — to stifle a hiccup. “Second floor, third room on th’left.”

“All right, let’s get you to bed,” Cullen said. He gently guided her toward the stairs. 

“Fine, fine,” she groused. “As my Golden Boy commands.” She winked at Sera as they passed her by.

Sera grinned at her, then darted after them and swiftly placed a tankard in her hand. Piper grinned back, and before Cullen could stop her, she swallowed the contents of the tankard in one big gulp.

The tequila burned her throat as it went down, and she couldn’t stop herself from coughing. Then Cullen took the tankard from her hand. “Maker’s breath,” he muttered. 

She laughed. “Maker’d be too scared to get anywhere near my breath now. He’d be sauced the second I opened my mouth.” She hiccuped loudly, then covered her mouth. “Sorry.”

Cullen tutted, and Piper shamelessly stared up at his jawline in a besotted haze. He eyed her for a moment, then chuckled and shook his head as they made their way toward the stairs. “You truly are a madwoman, Piper.”

She beamed at him and hugged him around the waist. “Why, thank you, Cullen. That’s a sweet thing to say to a girl.”

He chuckled again, and Piper happily savoured the sound.

It was the last thing she remembered clearly for the rest of the night.

###  FENRIS 

Fenris carefully ushered Hawke through the crowd, then slowed down as he reached the card tables. “Hawke, this is—”

A wave of greetings went up from the men around the table. Varric, who was dealing, saluted him casually. “Hey, elf. Finally joining us?” 

“Yes, we are,” he said. He looked at Hawke.

Her mouth was open in surprise. She looked up at him. “Gambling? You like gambling?”

He snorted softly. “I knew you thought I did not enjoy taking risks.” He pulled out a chair for her. “The game is wicked grace,” he told her. “Do you know it?”

She shook her head as she sat in the chair. “I’m wonderful at cribbage and bridge, but I’ve never heard of wicked grace.”

He smirked. “This is a long shot from cribbage and bridge.” He sat beside her and placed four coppers on the table. “Two hands, Varric.”

“But I don’t know how to play,” Hawke protested.

“You wanna sit this first round out?” Varric asked. 

She grimaced. “Maybe? Just until I, you know, have a sense of what’s going on.”

Fenris shrugged as Varric began dealing. “No need to play right away, then. I will teach you.” 

She beamed at him, and for a moment, his gaze got stuck on the warm amber-gold of her eyes. She shuffled closer to him and propped her elbows on the table. “All right, Fenris. Teach me what to do.” 

Her head was quite close to his as she peered at his cards. Her hair smelled like warmth and sandalwood. 

He exhaled slowly and started explaining the rules. Three rounds later, Fenris had won the pot all three times, and Hawke was looking very excited. 

“But this game is easy to win!” she said. She elbowed Fenris. “It’s hardly risky if it’s such an easy win.”

Fenris pursed his lips, and Varric chuckled. “It’s risky for Fenris. He normally loses every round.”

She looked at him. “You always lose?”

“The dwarf exaggerates,” Fenris said. “I have good days and bad days.”

Varric snorted. “I’m pretty sure this is the only time I’ve ever seen you have a good day. I think Hawke here is your good-luck charm.” 

“Untrue,” Fenris said calmly. “I am highly skilled at this game.”

Hawke laughed. “If that’s true, then you won’t mind me going off on my own.” 

The four other players around the table jeered playfully at Fenris, and he shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

Varric grinned at him as he dealt a new round, this time with a hand for Hawke. “You’re going to lose now that she’s playing against you.” 

Fenris huffed. “I will raise that bet, then. A full silver.” He reached into his coin pouch and tossed a silver on the table. 

The other players jeered more loudly this time, and Fenris smirked at them. But Hawke pulled a little face. “Oh, shit. I don’t have any silver.”

Fenris frowned at her. “You don’t?”

“No,” she said. “I only have a few coppers on me right now. I left my coin purse on the ship.” She grimaced apologetically. “Remembered the dagger, forgot the coin.”

He eyed her chidingly, then reached for his coin pouch again. “I will lend you a silver.”

“No, that’s all right,” she said hurriedly. “I’ll bet something else. What about… what about the shirt off my back?”

The other players hooted and pounded the table, and she laughed and playfully bowed to them from her seat. Fenris, meanwhile, gaped at her. “You would bet your shirt?” he said incredulously. 

“Yes,” she said. “Is that not allowed?”

Her expression was mischievous and distinctly challenging, and Fenris couldn’t reply. He was suddenly preoccupied by the thought of what was beneath Hawke’s blouse. He knew she wore something beneath it, but he wasn’t sure whether it was a bustier or a full corset or a simple wrap, and — _kaffas_ , why was he even thinking about this?

Thankfully, Varric replied for him. “It’s allowed if the rest of the table agrees that your shirt is the same value as a silver. If that’s—”

“We agree,” one of the other players said loudly, and the rest of them shouted their approval and banged the table again. 

Varric smirked at Fenris and shrugged. “I guess that settles that.”

_Humans,_ Fenris thought disdainfully. He chose to ignore the foolish part of his mind that was also loudly clamouring in the hopes that Hawke would lose. 

A few minutes later, to everyone’s vast amusement, Hawke did indeed lose — to Fenris, no less. She shook her head ruefully as she threw down her cards, then sat forward in her chair and peeled her shirt off.

She was wearing a dark brown leather bustier that ended just above her waist — a Dalish one, if the patterns on the cups and the leather lacing was anything to go by. _Probably borrowed from Merrill,_ Fenris thought stupidly. 

She tossed the shirt on the table in front of him, and the rest of the players erupted into cheering and table-banging and wolf-whistling. Then she grinned at him. “I’m going to need that back,” she yelled over the noise. “It’s actually Piper’s.” She threw her head back and laughed.

He licked his lips and tried to ignore the shapely swell of her breasts. “You can take it up with her, then,” he said. “She owes me four silver and seven coppers. Consider this part of her debt repaid.” 

She laughed more merrily still, and Fenris swallowed hard and looked away from her. She was… _venhedis,_ she was beautiful. She was enticing and lively and bold, and of course every man in a ten-foot radius was staring at her, because why wouldn’t they?

_Fasta vass,_ he wanted to stare at her. No, he wanted more than that. He… he wanted her.

He ran a hand through his hair. There was no point denying it anymore; it was taking up far too much of his energy to pretend otherwise. Fenris _wanted_ Hawke. He wanted her skin beneath his hands and her sunny laughter in his ears and her thoughtful questions in his bed. He wanted to strip that damned bustier off and to find out what the tips of her nipples tasted like. 

He wanted her more than he’d wanted anything in years, and this terrified him. 

“Tell me something,” Hawke said, jolting him from the turmoil of his thoughts. “Why do you play this game so much if you usually lose?”

He looked at her. She was resting her elbows on the table, looking well at ease despite her half-naked torso, and he could only marvel at how relaxed she was. Not that her state of dress was uncommon; half the women, patrons and staff alike, were less clothed than she. It was the fact that she was comfortable being so bare, when Fenris was certain her Kirkwall upbringing would never have permitted this level of nudity. 

Once again, she was embracing something new without any qualms or cares, and Fenris felt an odd burst of envy at how carefree she was. 

He cleared his throat and tried to be casual. “I told you, Varric exaggerates. I don’t usually lose.”

She tilted her head. “Come on, Fenris. There’s more to it than that. You were talking about risks before. This game seems like a rather large risk every time you play. You could lose a lot of coin this way.” She propped her chin on her hands. “Why do you like this game?”

He shrugged and picked mindlessly at the ribbon on his wrist. “It is a risk, but a small one,” he said. “The consequences are minor. If I lose, it is nothing of value. It is only coin.”

She let out a little laugh. “I’m fairly sure a lot of people would say that coin has value.”

He somberly met her gaze. “Those people have not lost anything of true value.”

Her smile slowly faded. For a long, loaded moment, they simply gazed at each other, and Fenris’s pulse seemed to beat more loudly in his ears with every passing breath.

Hawke broke the silence. “You’re right,” she said. “You’re… you’re right. I mean, I left Kirkwall because coin doesn’t matter. Not when…” She trailed off and took a deep breath, then smiled at him. “I think I have a grand total of five silver back on the ship. I just lost the shirt off my back, and it wasn’t even my shirt. And — fuck, I am so happy.” She laughed and tucked her hair behind her ear. “Maker’s balls, I can’t remember the last time I was this happy. Not since before Bethany died, at least.”

Fenris nodded silently. There was a lump in his throat, and he genuinely couldn’t tell if it was born from joy or sorrow. 

Her smile softened, and she squeezed his arm. “Are you all right?”

He swallowed hard. “Yes,” he said gruffly. He waved at the table. “You should continue playing. One loss out of four rounds is quite good.”

She grimaced. “I can’t, remember? No coin.” Then she grinned. “I hope you’re not suggesting I bet any more of my clothes. Not for this game, at least. For a private showing, on the other hand…” She wiggled her eyebrows playfully.

He ignored the intrusive mental image of a _private showing_ and forced his face to remain neutral. The thought was far too tempting, even if it was a joke, and he needed… Fenris needed to think. 

He unstrapped his coin pouch from his waist and offered it to her. “Take this,” he said. 

Her eyes went wide. “Oh — Fenris, no! No no, I can’t, you earned that.” 

He placed the pouch on the table in front of her. “We are pirates. There will always be more coin. I insist.” He leaned back and folded his arms. “If anything, perhaps you’ll learn to bet wisely.”

“Something you’ve never learned, if you always lose,” she teased. 

He smirked. “Shut up, Hawke.”

She giggled, then gently pinched his chin. “Thank you, Fenris,” she said seriously. “This is really sweet of you.” 

He shrugged and looked away. A moment later, Hawke was mockingly complaining at Varric for dealing her a bad hand, and the other men at the table were chuckling at her antics, so Fenris decided it was safe to look at her again. 

He watched quietly as she played and laughed with the others. The lanterns hanging from the ceiling were warming her pale skin to a burnished shade of gold, and her laughter was sweeter than the sound of the mandolin from the musicians’ corner. She was clearly having a wonderful time, and Fenris was glad. 

Some things were worth more than silver and gold. And some risks were worth the consequences. 

Fenris just had to decide whether courting Hawke was worth the risk.

###  CULLEN 

Piper reached for the banister at the top of the stairs, then missed and almost fell backwards down the last flight. “Fen’Harel’s fucking cock,” she blurted.

Cullen hooked his arm around her waist and eased her onto the landing. “Be careful,” he warned. She’d attempted to walk up the stairs on her own, claiming all the while that she could do it herself. In practice, however, Cullen had needed to spot her during the entire two flights for fear that she would topple backwards. 

“Hmmm,” she murmured lazily. She took a lazy step forward, then swung toward him and flattened her palms on his chest. “Are you coming to bed with me, Commander?”

“Wha-? No,” he stammered. “I’m simply helping _you_ to get to bed. I’m afraid you won’t make it on your own.” Maker’s breath, he could feel his face heating up yet again. Why wouldn’t his blasted cheeks grow accustomed to her flirting already? He’d certainly been exposed to enough of it over the past year or so. 

She took a step away from him and planted her fists on her hips. “What, you think I can’t make my way to my own room?” she said archly. “Just watch me.” She turned around, then stumbled into the railing. 

Cullen hastily helped her find her balance. “Piper, will you allow me to carry you to your room?” he said wearily. “You’ve nearly fallen over the banister far too many times for my liking.”

“Hah!” she scoffed. “I don’t need to be carried. In fact, I bet I could carry you.” Then, to Cullen’s surprise, she hunkered into an odd sort of semi-squat in front of him and wrapped her arms around his waist. 

He gaped at the top of her silver-haired head. “What in the Maker’s name—” 

“Shh,” she hissed. “Hang on. And… _hup!_ ” Her arms tightened around his waist. 

He waited for a moment in utter bemusement. Then Piper released a heavy breath. “Okay, attempt number one failed. Let’s try again. And… _hup!_ ” 

He raised his eyebrows. “Is this… are you trying to lift me up?”

She looked up at him. Her cheeks were pink with exertion. “Yes,” she panted. “Just give me one more try.” 

He wilted slightly, then disentangled himself from her wiry arms and scooped her up. 

She tutted in annoyance, but hooked her arm around his neck. “Spoilsport. Show-off,” she scolded him. “So the Golden Boy has large rippling muscles. I can see that, all right? You don’t need to boast.” 

“I am not boasting,” he protested. “I’m just… carrying you.” He finally spotted the door to the room that Piper had indicated, then looked at her. “Where is the key?”

“I don’t know,” she said airily. “Maybe it’s back where you swept me off my feet like a big sexy golden-haired show-off.”

He gave her a chiding look. “Piper.”

She sighed, then handed him a brass key. 

“Thank you,” he said. Without putting her down, he slotted the key into the lock, then pushed open the door with some difficulty. 

He stepped into the room and looked around. It was small but clean and cozy-looking. There was a double bed and a nightstand with an oil lamp, and a small dressing table in the corner with a basin for washing. A chest sat at the foot of the bed, and a rather nice rug decorated the floor. 

He carefully set Piper down. “Here you are,” he said. 

She rolled her eyes as she found her footing. “You don’t need to take care of me, you know. I’m perfectly able to take care of myself.” She weaved her way toward the nightstand.

He stepped over to the small window and curiously peeked outside. The view was quite nice; the three-quarter moon was casting a cool white shimmer across the waters of Rialto Bay, contrasting nicely with the bonfires that were still burning merrily on the beach. 

In his peripheral vision, he could see the warm light of the bedside lamp being lit. He dropped the gauze curtain back in place and glanced at Piper, then double-taked. 

“Piper!” he blurted. “What are you doing?”

She dropped her sleeveless Dalish top on the bed. “What d’you mean?”

He snapped his mouth shut. She was naked from the waist up. 

And she was facing him. 

He stared gormlessly at the elaborate tattoos on her chest. He’d known they covered her whole left arm and her entire back from neck to hips, and he’d seen a hint of them at the hem of her midriff-baring top. But he had no idea the tattoos started between her breasts, or that the intricate patterns curled beneath her breasts as though to frame them, like a bustier made of ink.

Breasts. Maker’s breath, he was staring at her breasts.

He tore his eyes back to her face. She was grinning at him devilishly. 

She took a slinky step toward him. “See something you like, Commander?”

He swallowed hard. His heart was pounding in his chest — and in other places as well, to his great shame. 

He dropped his eyes and awkwardly rubbed his nose. “Why, er… why did you take off your top?” he asked weakly.

“I sleep naked,” she said. “And I was about to go to sleep. Unless you want to do something else instead.” She bit her lower lip and slid one hand over the flat plane of her belly toward the waistband of her breeches. 

A roar of approval surged through his blood. He dropped his gaze and forced himself to take a step away from her. “N-no, thank you,” he stammered. “I — I’m afraid I’ve had too much to drink. And so have you.”

She smiled at him and took another step closer. “That’s fine, Golden Boy. You don’t need to touch. You can just look.” Without shifting her bold gaze from his face, she started unlacing her breeches. 

He hastily took her hands to stop her. “Piper, please, I — I can’t,” he begged. He couldn’t consider what she was offering him. He shouldn’t even be looking at her when she was this undressed. They would be heading back to Kirkwall in a few days’ time, and Cullen didn’t know when — or if — he would see her again. The thought of sleeping with Piper just once, or even a few times, then seeing her sail away on the Lady Luck… 

It made him too sad to think about. Piper might be comfortable with a more casual arrangement, but Cullen had never tended toward such casual relationships. And although he didn’t dare tell her so, not with their impending parting so near on the horizon, his feelings for Piper were anything but casual. 

To his dismay, she took yet another step closer to him — close enough that her breasts were brushing against his shirt. “You don’t _have_ to do anything,” she murmured. “But you can.” 

He swallowed hard. His wayward eyes had fallen to her small but shapely breasts, and his traitorous groin was pulsing at the sheer nearness of her. 

He forced himself to breathe. “Truly, I can’t,” he said. “I… it’s… I’m sorry, Piper, I can’t.”

She cocked her head. “There’s nothing to be sorry for,” she said. “But you _can._ Stop saying you can’t.”

He licked his dry lips. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“I mean that I want you,” she said bluntly. “If you want me, all you have to do is ask.”

He dragged in another breath. “It’s… not that simple,” he said weakly. 

“It is, though,” she said. She stepped away from him and tottered over to the bed. “You can have the things you want sometimes, Cullen. Just ask. All you have to do is ask.” She smiled at him, then threw back the covers on the bed. 

He watched with a throbbing cock and an aching heart as she kicked off her boots. She started unlacing her breeches again, and he hastily turned away so as not to see the tempting sight of her shedding her last piece of clothing. 

When he heard the shuffle of the sheets, he turned back to face her. She was sitting up in bed and smiling at him, and his foolish juvenile eyes fell on her breasts again. 

She laughed and pushed her hair back. “Go ahead, Golden Boy, look your fill.”

He winced and rubbed the back of his neck. Staring at her so openly… he really must be drunker than he thought. “Forgive me, Piper, I—” 

“Oh, Cullen, don’t panic,” she said soothingly. “Your face might burst into flame if you blush any harder.”

He scowled and stared at the ceiling. “Believe me, I wish I could stop the, er, blushing.”

She laughed, then rolled onto her side and nestled into the pillows. “I don’t. I like your blushing. I think it’s absolutely adorable.”

He huffed, then dared to look at her again now that she was safely half-hidden by the bedding. “I beg to disagree, though I think my opinion counts for little in this matter.”

“Exactly right,” she slurred. “I’m the captain, and I say it’s adorable. I think I should put that in the Code of the Lady Luck. ‘Cullen blushing is adorable, and everyone must tell him so.’” She smiled at him, then laughed again. “You’re blushing even harder now. _Fenedhis,_ how do you keep a straight face during your fucking job?”

He _harrumph_ ed. “Believe it or not, but you’re the only person who provokes me this frequently.”

She chuckled. “You know what, I’ll consider that an honour.”

He sighed. “Of course you would.”

She hummed a lazy little chuckle, then patted the bed beside her. “Get the fuck over here, please. You can’t just stand there all night. And there’s nowhere else in this room for you to sleep. You must be exhausted.”

She wasn’t wrong. He was quite tired, and there was nowhere else to sit. But the thought of lying beside her on the bed, knowing she was naked beneath the sheets… 

His manhood jerked eagerly at the thought, and he shifted his weight uncomfortably. “I’m not sure it’s a good idea,” he mumbled.

She sat up on her elbow and gave him a reproving look. “Cullen, come get some rest. You haven’t caught up on your sleep. I’ll keep my hands to myself, I promise.” She shot him another mischievous grin. “Until I fall asleep, that is. I’m not responsible for what these hands of mine will do when I’m unconscious.”

He huffed. “I’m not sure that’s comforting.”

“Come on,” she wheedled. “Come lie next to me. I’ll tell you a story if you do.”

He eyed her reprovingly. _Wily little pirate,_ he thought. Piper knew how much he enjoyed her stories. 

She blinked innocently at him until he capitulated. “All right,” he sighed. He gingerly sat on the bed, then slowly lounged back on the pillows and folded his hands over his middle. 

She rolled onto her side to face him and tucked her hands under her cheek. “I’ll tell you a short one, since I’m tired. One time, I was on the dinghy fishing with Kaaras and Fenris, and Kaaras caught a giant octopus.”

He turned his head slightly to look at her. “A giant octopus? How giant?”

“ _Giant_ ,” she insisted. Then she smiled. “Well, maybe not giant. Its arm span was about as long as Fen is tall. But this is the good part: in each of its eight arms, it was holding a piece of treasure.”

Cullen raised his eyebrows. “Treasure?”

She nodded. “Yes. In the first arm, it had a tiara inlaid with pearls. In the second arm, a gold hammered bracelet. In the third…” She yawned widely and covered her mouth. “... in the third it had a beautiful brass candelabra. In the fourth…”

Cullen listened with amused patience as she listed the rest of the items that the octopus had been holding. When she was finished, she smiled at him. “A treasure-bearing octopus with a different type of treasure in every arm.”

Cullen nodded. “And then what happened?”

She blinked. “Oh. Nothing. I sold the treasure for food and supplies. We cut up the octopus and Merrill fried it. We had a really good party that night.”

Cullen glanced at her, unsure whether to laugh or not. Her eyes were half-closed from fatigue, but she didn’t look like she was joking.

She smiled drowsily. “What, no applause? You didn’t like my story?”

“No, I did,” he said quickly. “I was just thinking it was… not your usual sort of story.”

She blinked slowly and nestled her cheek into her hands. “What d’you mean?”

“I mean…” He trailed off, uncertain how to articulate what he meant. Usually her stories had some sort of bottom line, or a hidden piece of wisdom that left him thinking for days after she’d been released from jail. “It’s a rather simple story, that’s all,” he finally said.

She chuckled softly. “What can I say? I’m a simple girl. I like sailing and sex. That’s Captain Mad Piper in a nutshell.” She yawned again, then smiled cheekily at him. “I think those activities would be even better with you, though.”

Cullen gazed at her without speaking. Her eyelids were at half-mast, and he could see that she was falling asleep.

_You are underselling yourself,_ he thought tenderly. As open as Piper was about herself, telling her myriad colourful stories and sharing her likes and dislikes, there was still a lot that Cullen didn’t know about her. Her childhood, for instance, which Varric had hinted at. Or why she became more belligerently insistent on not being taken care of with every consecutive drink.

She sighed sleepily. “Don’t look at me like that.”

He focused on her face. Her eyes were closed. “Like what?” he whispered.

“Like you miss me,” she murmured. “Don’t miss me, Cullen. Just…” She yawned deeply once more. “Just stay.” A moment later, she was asleep.

He longingly studied her beautiful face. In the throes of slumber, she looked so peaceful and soft, and seeing her like this — seeing her the way a lover would see her… it felt like a privilege he didn’t deserve. 

The warm, gentle glow of the oil lamp highlighted the burnished bronze of her skin, and Cullen allowed himself to study the intricate tattoos that climbed up her left arm to her shoulder. The delicate patterns were detailed and complex, and he wondered what they all meant. He knew that Piper added to the tattoo every time she made port for long enough to get one, but he’d never asked her what port each part of the tattoo corresponded to. 

He could ask her about them. Find out the meaning that was buried in every artistic inch of her skin. He closed his eyes and indulged himself in a foolish fantasy: asking Piper about the tattoos on her naked back, and tracing his fingers over the pale ink that patterned the pristine canvas of her skin — perhaps tracing them with his tongue, particularly the ones that framed her breasts so perfectly… 

He rubbed his eyes. He couldn’t think like this. He _couldn’t_. He had to return to Kirkwall and see Meredith to justice.

But what about after Meredith was seen to justice? 

He had promised Piper he would think about joining her crew. But the thought of leaving the Kirkwall Navy…

The navy was all Cullen had ever known. He’d wanted to join the navy since he was a child, and he’d never been anything other than a navy soldier. How could he be considering leaving the only life he’d ever known to become a pirate?

_Just stay._ Piper’s soft and sleepy voice flitted through his mind. She truly made it sound so simple. For someone as free and willful as Piper, perhaps it was. But for someone like Cullen, someone who had been trained to maintain the peace by following the rules, the thought of starting a new life was… terrifying. 

He sighed. He’d promised Piper he would think about staying on the Lady Luck, and that’s what he would do.

But first, he would sleep. Piper was right; he truly was exhausted. 

He closed his eyes and released a long, heavy breath. A minute later, he opened his eyes and rolled onto his side to face her. He fondly studied the scar that bisected Piper’s eyebrow and the second scar that highlighted the delicate bow of her upper lip.

Perhaps he would stay awake just a little bit longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SORRY FRIENDS, NO SMUT YET. JUST BEWBS. Piper, you salty sea bitch. 
> 
> I am [Pikapeppa on Tumblr,](https://pikapeppa.tumblr.com/) and your insanely talented artist is [Schoute!](https://schoute.tumblr.com/)


	11. Rialto: When The Morning Comes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A note on Rialto: I was in Barcelona in 2010, and I imagine Rialto being kind of like a smaller, rowdier version of Barcelona with the many pedestrian-only town squares and palm trees and fountains, and the big lively Boqueria marketplace.

###  PIPER 

“Calm down, _alhasha._ You’re going to be fine. Everything’s going to be fine.”

“Papa, _no!_ ” she screamed. She struggled frantically against the huge human hands gripping her arms, wishing she was bigger she could claw their stupid fat fingers off of her arms. “Let him go! Let him go!” 

Feylhen smiled at her. The noose tightened around his neck. “Close your eyes, Piper. Everything will be fine.” 

Piper woke with a gasp. For a terrifying, disoriented moment, she wasn’t sure where she was; blankets and hair were clouding her eyes, and her fingers were clutching at her own neck, and Cullen – 

_Cullen_. She froze for a second as her panicked eyes recognized his sleeping face. All at once, she remembered where she was.

The tension left her body in a sigh of relief. It was early morning, and she was in her usual guest room in Rialto. Cullen was fast asleep beside her, his arms folded under his head and his mouth slightly open as he snored.

A heart-squeezing rush of affection filled her chest. He was on top of the blankets and hadn’t even taken off his boots, and this didn’t surprise Piper at all; of course he wouldn’t actually get _in_ to the bed with her, not even if she’d invited him – which, let’s face it, she probably had. No, getting into bed with her would be far too improper for his comfort. But she was surprised – and very pleased – that he was even _on_ the bed at all. 

She shifted a little closer to him beneath the sheets. That’s when she realized that she was completely naked. 

She snorted, then clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle the sound. Well, this just made things even more precious. She’d obviously propositioned him last night when she was plastered, and he’d obviously refused. Given this new development, she was frankly shocked – and delighted – that he wasn’t sitting in the corner across the room from her. 

A burst of hope took flight in her belly as she studied his peaceful face. Of course Cullen had turned her down; she’d been so drunk she couldn’t remember taking off her clothes, and Cullen was nothing if not the perfect gentleman. But the fact that he was still in the room with her – much less on the bed, with Piper sleeping naked just a couple handspans away… 

He wouldn’t do this with anyone. She knew that without a doubt. Before coming to Rialto, she’d known that Cullen saw her as a friend, but this was more than that. For someone as polite and decorous as Cullen, this was _special._

Her heart was thrumming a happy beat in her chest, and she wiggled her toes excitedly. Then Cullen snorted and twitched. 

His eyes popped open, and he turned his head to look at her. His cheeks instantly started turning pink, and Piper beamed at him. 

“Good morning, Golden Boy,” she purred.

He cleared his throat nervously. “Piper. Good, er, good morning.”

She shuffled her bare arms out from the blankets and tucked her hands coyly beneath her cheek. “So it seems that I’m naked under here…” She shifted her legs under the covers and raised her eyebrows meaningfully.

Exactly as she’d expected, his face fell into an expression of horror, and his cheeks went absolutely flaming red. “I – no! I assure you, I had nothing to do with that, and – nothing happened, I promise–”

She burst out laughing. _Fenedhis_ , he was so damned sweet, and… fuck, she wanted so badly to kiss him. But he looked so adorably flustered, and if she even tried to kiss him, his face would probably go up in flames.

She satisfied herself instead with shifting a bit closer to him and patting his lightly stubbled cheek. “I’m just teasing you,” she said cheerfully. “I can’t imagine how red your face must have been last night.” She gave him a wicked smile. “I have to wonder how you keep a straight face during your job sometimes.”

He scoffed quietly. Then, to Piper’s happy surprise, he rolled onto his side to face her. 

He folded his arms and smiled. “You said that last night,” he said wryly. 

She grinned at him. Lying face to face like this was _very_ cozy, almost like a lovely morning-after chat. 

_I wish,_ she thought. Her belly did a wistful little flip. “Oh yes?” she said teasingly. “What else did I say last night?” 

His precious cheeks pinkened once more, but to Piper’s surprise, his smile faded. “You, er…” He nervously licked his lips. “You asked me to join the Lady Luck after the… problem in Kirkwall is resolved.”

Her own smile melted away, and she slowly pushed her hair back from her face. “I remember that, actually,” she said softly. She also remembered what she’d blurted out right after – _I like you, Cullen_ – and her belly twisted. Was he going to bring that up, too?

He nodded a silent acknowledgement. For a moment they lay there facing each other in the bed, and Piper could feel her pulse beating nervously in her throat. Cullen’s expression was utterly serious, and his cocoa-brown eyes were meltingly warm, and…

And she had no idea what he was thinking. Not a clue. He looked pensive and serious, and Piper couldn’t guess what was going on in his mind. 

She laughed lightly and twisted an unruly lock of her hair in her fingers. “Any, er, thoughts?” she asked lamely.

“Many,” he said quietly. He smiled, but his brow remained creased. “I did promise you I would think about it, and I swear to you, I am.”

A tiny pang of disappointment pinched her gut. “But you need more time.”

He sighed. “Yes. It’s… a lot to think about.” He rubbed his chin idly for a moment. Then, slowly, he reached out and brushed a stray strand of hair away from her forehead.

His touch was brief, but his finger was infinitely gentle on her face, and Piper stopped breathing. A burst of butterflies exploded in her belly, filling her with excitement and hope and… and nerves. Fucking _nerves_. 

Suddenly she felt nervous and almost shy, which made absolutely no sense – there was no reason to be shy about anything with Cullen. He was kind and patient and sweet, and _he_ was the shy one, for fuck’s sake, not her. Cullen was the shy one, with his nervous stuttering and his blushing cheeks like the way he was blushing right now… 

Fuck, he was perfect. And he needed time to think. 

All at once, Piper needed a change of scene. It was too much – this room, this bed, her naked body that was begging for his hands and her pounding heart that was silently but shamelessly begging for him to stay… 

“Let’s go for a walk,” she blurted. 

He raised his eyebrows, but nodded nonetheless. “All right,” he said, and he started to push himself upright. 

She swallowed hard and shifted over to the edge of the bed, then quickly pulled on her smalls and breeches from the night before. When her bottoms were on, she frowned. Her top wasn’t on the floor with the rest of her clothes. 

She tutted and patted the mess of blankets. “Cullen, did you happen to see–”

At the same moment, Cullen spoke. “Piper, may I ask you something–”

They both stopped, and Piper smiled over her shoulder at him. Then her smile grew wider as she noticed where he was looking. 

His eyes were on her naked back. Piper pulled her hair over her shoulder and lifted one shoulder enticingly. “See anything you like, Commander?”

He dropped his gaze to the floor. His cheeks were flushed yet again. “You said that last night, too,” he muttered. 

There was a tiny shy smile on his face, and the remaining nervousness fled her belly. She laughed and shuffled her hand around in the blankets. “Well, at least you know drunk Piper and sober Piper are consistent,” she said cheerfully. When her fingers found her top, she pulled it triumphantly from the bed. 

“What did you want to ask?” she asked as she pulled on her top.

“Er, nothing,” he said. “It was… er, it’s nothing.”

She fluffed her hair and frowned slightly. “Are you sure?” she said. His gaze was still on the ground, and he looked thoughtful once more. 

He gave her a small smile. “Another time, perhaps,” he said. He walked over to the door and gallantly opened it for her. “May I treat you to breakfast?”

She scoffed as she approached the door. “What for?”

He raised his eyebrows. “To thank you for the, er, entertainment last night.”

She threw her head back and laughed. “Entertainment! That’s one way of putting it.” They made their way toward the stairs, and she shot him a serious look. “Really though, did you have a good time?”

“I did, in fact,” he said. “Rialto is quite… overwhelming, at first. But I enjoyed seeing it with you.”

Another rush of fondness tugged at her heart. She reached out and squeezed his hand. “I’m glad. But that was just the rowdy side of Rialto. It’s very different during the day, you’ll see.” She released his hand, then shot him a smile as she traipsed down the stairs. “And I’m going to treat _you_ to breakfast, because you’re my guest. Are you in for another taste adventure?”

He nodded agreeably as he followed her to the main floor. “You have yet to lead me astray. I’ll trust your judgment.” 

She smiled at him. His shirt and vest were rumpled, and his usually-impeccable hair was slightly out of place. He looked dishevelled but happy, and more like a pirate than ever. Creators, she _really_ wanted him to join the Lady Luck. 

She took a deep breath to calm another inconvenient leap of nerves, then pushed open the doors to the Hanged Man. She placed her hands on her hips and smiled up at Cullen. “All right, Golden Boy. Consider this your official introduction to Rialto.”

He smiled back and gave her a little half-bow. “Lead the way, Captain Lavellan.”

She chuckled and gently punched his shoulder. “Cheeky boy. Come on, let’s get you fed.” She looped her hand through his elbow, and together they strolled into the buttery sunshine to greet the day.

###  RYNNE 

The first thing Rynne became aware of was the faint calling of seagulls and the distant hiss of the morning tide on the beach.

The second thing she became aware of was a dull pain in her hip. 

She frowned. Without opening her eyes, she shifted slightly on the wooden bench to ease the pressure on her hip. Then she froze. 

She was lounging against a solid, warm body. She opened her eyes, then grinned. 

The lovely warm body was Fenris, and he was fast asleep. His one hand was resting on his thigh, and his other arm was stretched lazily along the back of the bench, and Rynne pressed her lips together to stifle a giddy little laugh. 

She remembered sitting down on this bench last night with Fenris after walking along the beach, but she didn’t remember falling asleep. It seemed as though her sleeping self was just as smitten with Fenris as her waking self, though: apparently she’d snuggled right up to him in her sleep, and now she was tucked beneath his outstretched arm with her elbow resting on his thigh. 

She couldn’t help it. She laughed silently to herself. Then Fenris shifted slightly and sighed. 

She froze and darted a guarded look at his face, then relaxed again; he hadn’t woken up. His head was hanging forward in sleep, and Rynne fondly studied the little frown he was still wearing even though he was asleep. 

Carefully and slowly so as not to disturb him, she snuggled closer to him and rested her head against his chest. She sighed contentedly and savoured the slow rise and fall of his breathing. She was actually quite surprised that he was sleeping so deeply while sitting up on this uncomfortable bench; he struck her as the type of person to be a light sleeper, so it was extra lucky that she had this chance to shamelessly lounge against him. 

She closed her eyes and drifted happily in her memories of the previous night. Rialto was everything she’d hoped it would be and more. More trouble than she’d anticipated, certainly, what with those awful thugs that Fenris had saved her from. But also much more fun. 

She’d ended up gambling for over an hour, winning some rounds but losing even more of them until Fenris’s unfortunate coin pouch had been whittled down to a mere ten silver and change. After that, Isabela had invited her to dance, and she’d ended up dancing with both Isabela and Merrill while what seemed like the entire clientele of the Hanged Man cheered them on. At that point, however, the noise in the Hanged Man was so loud that Rynne could barely hear the musicians over the cheering, and Fenris seemed more intent on watching the wild and drunken crowd than her. So Rynne had asked if they could go somewhere else, hence the nighttime stroll along the shore that had ultimately culminated in this bench.

And oh, that nighttime stroll… 

Her heart did a happy little flip as she remembered it, and she bit her lips to stop herself from smiling like an idiot. _Nothing happened,_ she reminded herself sternly. And really, nothing outwardly romantic _had_ happened. All that had happened was Rynne and Fenris walking barefoot on the beach for a few hours just... talking.

That was the thing that Rynne had loved the most about the night: Fenris _talking_. She was actually stunned at how much he had spoken, given how taciturn he was at first. After giving her his coin pouch at the card tables, he’d been essentially silent, smirking at Varric’s wry comments and occasionally chuckling when Rynne did something particularly foolish, but he’d barely said a word. When Rynne had coaxed him out to join her on the beach, it had taken half a bottle of brandy shared between them before he’d really started to talk.

And once he started talking, Rynne didn’t want him to stop. 

She’d begun by telling him some of the funnier stories about her life in Kirkwall, and eventually he had shared some of his more outlandish adventures with Piper’s crew. Then he’d told her about the history of Rialto as a pirate town, and when she’d asked him to tell her more about the region, he’d explained about the free colonies of Rialto Bay, which Piper would surely take them to visit in the next month or so. 

He was so well-informed about the area, and Rynne enjoyed learning about this part of Antiva almost as much as she enjoyed just listening to his voice — not to mention just _watching_ him while he spoke: his frown when he was especially focused, and the sharp movements of his hands when he became animated, and his rare but heart-stopping smiles when she managed to make him laugh. Rynne wasn’t sure if it was the brandy or the relative quiet of the beach compared to the Hanged Man that had coaxed Fenris out of his shell; whatever it was, she was extremely glad for it. 

And she was even more shamelessly smitten with him than she already was before this whirlwind trip. 

She floated dreamily in her memories of the night before, smiling to herself as she entertained juvenile fantasies about Fenris reaching for her hand beneath the light of the moon like in those insipid romance novels that she loved. Some time later, she was pulled from her happy reverie by the sound of a sharp inhale. 

Fenris’s thigh went tense beneath her arm, and her eyes flew open. Shit. Should she move off of him? It was probably awkward that she was all snuggled up to him like this, so she should really move.

She didn’t move. For a long, increasingly tense moment, neither of them spoke. 

Fenris finally broke the silence. “Hawke?”

“Yes?” she said softly. 

He was quiet for a moment before speaking again. “You are awake.”

She winced. His tone was very flat. “Um, yes,” she said. She carefully sat up to look at him, worried that he would be angry.

He didn’t look angry. He looked… stunned, maybe, if that’s what you could call the utter lack of expression on his handsome face.

Rynne smiled cheesily and tucked her hair behind her ear. “Er, surprise! I get cuddly when I sleep, apparently…” She gave a nervous little laugh. 

“Somehow that does not surprise me,” he said. 

She eyed him cautiously for a moment. He looked and sounded so deadpan that she couldn’t decide if he was joking or not.

_Treat it like a joke,_ she decided. It would be far less awkward that way. She laughed and rearranged her lovely colourful skirt to cover her knees. “Let’s think of it like I’m adopting the marine way of life. I’m becoming clingy like the barnacles that stick to the ship’s keel.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You used the word ‘keel’ correctly. Good.”

She grinned. He still wasn’t smiling, but it was obvious from the quirk of his eyebrows that he was teasing her. 

She poked him in the chest. “See, I can be taught. What are you going to teach me next?”

His eyes fell to her lips. It was brief — less than a second — but her heart skipped a beat all the same. 

He dropped his gaze and ran a hand through his snowy hair. “Come, Hawke. We should move on.”

“All right,” she said easily. “What are we doing today? We don’t leave Rialto until tomorrow, right?” For the first time this morning, she took a moment to look around. 

The bench they were seated on was at the edge of a small town square — a different square than the one that boasted the Hanged Man. This square was surrounded on three sides by humble-looking two-storey buildings with plain flat roofs and colourful gauze curtains. There was a well in the center of the square and a few palm trees scattered around, giving the impression of an area where people lived rather than a central place for nightlife. 

There was also a marketplace nearby selling all kinds of foodstuffs and beverages, clothes and trinkets and jewelry and household goods, and every booth was sheltered by colourful tarps. The marketplace wasn’t large, but it stretched out onto the nearby beach.

She smiled at Fenris. “Do you want to go to the beach again? Pick up where we left off?” She laughed. “Not that I remember where we left off last night. I don’t actually remember falling asleep.” 

Unfortunately, he wouldn’t meet her eye. He rubbed his knees idly, then ran a hand through his hair once more and rose from the bench. “Let’s… do something else,” he said. He glanced around the square, and Rynne got the distinct impression that he was avoiding looking at her. 

She wilted slightly. It seemed that he _was_ discomfited by her sprawling across his lap, then. She briefly considered apologizing for being so handsy, then decided that would only make things more awkward.

There was only one option, then: blithely pretend that nothing was weird. She popped to her feet. “Let’s look around this marketplace, then! The only other market I’ve seen is the one in Lowtown. I wonder if they sell different things here?”

“Some things, yes,” Fenris said as he trailed after her toward the market. “But any pirate ships that run their goods through Kirkwall will also stop here, so some items will be the same.”

Rynne nodded an acknowledgement, then was immediately distracted by the goods at the first stall. Her jaw dropped in surprise. “This is Orlesian porcelain!” she exclaimed. 

The merchant smiled at her. “Yes, m’lady. The finest from Val Firmin. Interested in a piece or two? I’ll sell it to you special; a cup and saucer for ten royals, if you fancy.”

Rynne stared at the merchant. “Val Firmin porcelain? But this costs an arm and a leg. How are you making any coin by selling it so cheaply?”

The merchant raised an eyebrow at her, then narrowed his eyes. “Where’d you say you was from, love?”

Suddenly Fenris was behind her. “It is stolen merchandise, Hawke,” he said in a low voice. “Half of everything you see here was stolen and is being resold.” 

“Oh,” she said dumbly. Then she slapped her forehead. “No, of course. Silly me.” She gave a tinkling laugh. Maker’s balls, she was an idiot. Of course Rialto was a black market for stolen goods. Piracy, remember?

The merchant was looking at her as though she had sprouted a second head. “Be a good girl and listen to the knife-ear,” he told her. “And watch yerself. Other sellers aren’t gentlemen like me. They’ll try and swindle you for all you’re worth.”

Fenris pursed his lips. “Let’s move on,” he said quietly.

“Hang on a moment,” she said. She scowled the merchant. “What did you call him?”

The merchant frowned in confusion. “Who?”

She raised her eyebrows. “You called my friend here a… a knife-ear,” she said in a quiet voice. Maker, she felt icky saying that word. “I might be a little sheltered, but I know that’s a nasty thing to call someone.”

The merchant wrinkled his nose, then glanced at Fenris. “Is this wench serious?”

Rynne scoffed, then placed her palms on the table. “My good sir, I’ll have you know–”

“That is enough,” Fenris hissed. He took her arm and pulled her away from the table.

Rynne frowned up at him as he led her away from the stall. “What’s wrong? Did I do something wrong?”

“Not if you were looking to start a fight, no,” he snapped. He released her and folded his arms. “You are not in Kirkwall anymore, Hawke. There is no city guard or navy patrol to jump in if you are attacked. In Rialto, fighting words are exactly that: an invitation to fight. Is that what you wanted?”

She scowled, then sighed. “No,” she muttered, and she scuffed her bare toe on the paving stones. In truth, she would have liked to slap that merchant for insulting Fenris and then herself, but it didn’t seem the right time to admit that.

He frowned at her for a moment longer, then unfolded his arms. “Do not invite anyone to strike you unless you are prepared to strike back,” he said in a softer tone. 

“I can’t wait until you teach me how to punch someone properly, then,” she said with relish. “Lesson number one when we return to the Lady Luck.” She looked wistfully at the increasingly bustling market stalls. “Can we keep looking around the market, though? I saw some very lovely scarves just down that way.”

He stared at her for a moment, then scoffed. “No wonder Piper wanted you on the ship.”

Rynne looked up at him. “Hopefully she’s not the only one,” she said coyly.

He raised one eyebrow, and she batted her eyelashes at him. Then he pursed his lips and jerked his chin at the market. “Go on, Hawke. Look your fill.”

She beamed at him, then skipped over to the stall with the scarves. She was polite and friendly with all the other merchants – not a difficult task, since they were all far more polite and friendly with her as well, not to mention flirtatious – and Rynne had a lovely time flirting back and inspecting all the handmade wares and asking about the artisans’ craftsmanship. 

Unfortunately, Fenris didn’t seem to be enjoying himself very much. Every time Rynne turned around to ask him what he thought of this hand-painted bowl or that delicately stitched scarf, he was always about three steps away from her, frowning at the crowd with his hand resting lightly on the handle of his dagger. 

Finally she stepped away from the stalls and sidled up to him, and he raised his eyebrows. “What is it?” he asked. “Have you had enough?” He glanced down the row of stalls that Rynne hadn’t had a chance to look at yet. 

“No,” she said. “But do you want to do something else?” 

“Not necessarily,” he said slowly. “Do _you_ want to do something else?” 

She almost laughed. Something about this exchange felt oddly juvenile. “I want to spend time with _you_ ,” she said earnestly. “I’m not exactly doing that if you’re walking so far away from me.” 

He stared at her for a moment, then dropped his gaze, and Rynne waited with growing curiosity for him to respond. She wasn’t sure exactly what he was thinking, but his expression seemed to cycle rapidly between annoyance and confusion, making him look uncertain and… oddly vulnerable, somehow.

For a brief second, he plucked at the ribbon she’d tied around his wrist. Then his face finally settled back into a frown. He looked around the market without meeting her eyes. “I am keeping an eye out for threats,” he said. “This town is a nest of vipers. You should always be on your guard.” 

Rynne looked around as well. Sure, practically everyone had weapons on their backs or at their waists, but nobody looked like they were about to use them. Everyone just looked like they were… well, shopping. 

She shot him a pointed look. “You can’t spend every second being constantly on your guard. You’ll have a heart attack.” She took his hand. “Come on, come look at some of these frivolous and completely unnecessary knick-knacks with me.”

He pulled his hand from hers and tucked it in his pocket. “All right,” he said. 

She smiled and tried not to be hurt by his brusqueness, and they wandered toward the nearest stall. It boasted a selection of seashells that had been polished and painted with gaudy – and rather ugly – patterns of flowers and palm leaves. She smiled at the merchant, then waited until the merchant was busy talking to someone else before leaning in close to Fenris. 

“Which one would you pick?” she murmured.

“I wouldn’t,” he said flatly.

She nudged him playfully. “Well, me neither. That’s the point of the game.”

He raised an eyebrow. “This is a game?”

“Yes,” she said somewhat impatiently. “You have to pretend you’re being forced to pick the least hideous thing out of a selection of hideous items.”

He glanced around the market guardedly, then back at her. “Why?” he said slowly.

“Because it’s fun!” she exclaimed. She tutted at him. “Look, I’ll go first. I’ll pick the thing I think you would find the most ugly, and then you can do the same for me.” 

He scoffed and shook his head. “Hawke…”

She ignored him and pointed to a whelk shell that was covered in so many splotches of colour that it was absolutely eye-watering. “That one. You’d hate that one the most.”

He was silent for a moment. Then he shrugged. “You’re not wrong. I do hate it.”

She beamed at him. “Great. Now pick the one you think I would hate the most.”

He pursed his lips, but to Rynne’s delight, he started scanning the selection of shells. Finally he pointed to a large cowrie that was patterned with brown and white zigzags. “That one.” 

She raised her eyebrows. “Wow, you’re right. I really don’t like that one.”

“Your favourite is the one that I hate, isn’t it?” he asked.

She paused and studied the shells, then grinned up at him. “Actually, yes. How did you know?”

He shot a pointed glance at her riotously coloured skirt.

Rynne burst out laughing, then did a little twirl so her borrowed skirt fanned out. “Shots fired and taken!” she exclaimed. “You win this round, my handsome sir.” She did a playful little curtsy. 

Fenris smiled at her – a full, real smile, the first one she’d seen since their walk on the beach last night. “You are an idiot,” he said.

Rynne beamed at him. Her heart felt like it was so full of butterflies that it was going to pop. “Only for you, Fenris. Only for you,” she said, and she curtsied once more. 

He chuckled and shook his head, and Rynne was briefly consumed with the lovely fantasy of kissing him right here and now in the middle of the market. The urge was followed swiftly by a jolt of fear that he would push her away if she tried – not that she would know what she was doing even if she did try. 

She laughed a little nervously and glanced around the market for the next stall of interest. Then she gasped and pointed. “Oh, a bookseller! Fantastic – I’ve been looking for something new to read. Varric said he would start writing me a sequel to _Swords and Shields_ , but he hasn’t even started yet, if you can believe it.” She hurried over to the stall and cheerfully greeted the bookseller, then turned to Fenris, who was frowning once more. 

“All right,” she said. “I don’t even know what genre you prefer, so you’ll have to pick for yourself. What’s the last thing you’d read on this table?” 

His arms were folded, and his eyes were on the crowd once more. “None of them,” he said. 

She tilted her head. “You didn’t even look.”

His frown deepened. Then the bookseller spoke to her. “We’ve got a better selection at our shop, missus. It’s just at the southeast corner of the square there, if you like.”

Rynne perked up. “Wonderful! Thank you.” She smiled at Fenris. “Shall we go have a look?”

He shrugged. “As you wish.” 

She frowned. He was back to his taciturn manner, and she wasn’t sure why. Being playful seemed to cheer him up, though, so she’d stick with that. 

She sauntered back toward the town square with Fenris in her wake. “I hope they have a good selection of romance. You know my mother tried to stop Bethany and I from reading romance novels? Bethany actually listened to her – well, that’s not quite true, I managed to get her to read this one called _Storms of Temptation_ when she was eighteen, but it was truly dreadful. I, on the other hand, have read practically every smutty book I could get my hands on.” She grinned at Fenris as they drew close to the book shop. 

He grunted. “Another fact that doesn’t surprise me.”

“Good,” she purred. “At least you know the kind of filthy mind you’re keeping company with.” She winked at him, then pushed open the door to the shop.

A tiny bell tinkled overhead as they opened the door, but otherwise it was quiet and peaceful with only a few other people here: the shopkeeper himself and a couple of customers. The walls were lined with floor-to-ceiling shelves of books, and more shelves still were arranged throughout the deceptively long and narrow space. 

Rynne did a little hop of excitement. “This is marvelous,” she whispered to Fenris. “This shop is larger than Varric’s back in Kirkwall! Don’t tell him I said so, though,” she added. “He’s never been one to worry about size, but you never know.” She gave him a cheeky grin.

Fenris raised an eyebrow at her. “Will you be continuing in this vein for the rest of the day?”

“That depends on what treasures I find here,” she said. “I might find myself particularly, er, _inspired_.” She wiggled her eyebrows. 

“ _Fasta vass,_ ” he muttered. He waved vaguely at the shelves. “Go on, then. Continue your vulgar search.”

She grinned, then made a beeline straight to the section where the romance novels were kept. She made quiet lewd comments to Fenris as she perused the titles, and Fenris absently hummed acknowledgement of her remarks, but she couldn’t help but notice that he wasn’t looking at any books himself. 

She found this a bit surprising, frankly. Fenris was so smart; she would have taken him for an avid reader. She flipped open the first page of another novel and glanced at him. “Not a fan of reading, I take it?” she asked. 

He didn’t reply, and Rynne finally put the novel down to face him fully. “Fenris, is everything all right?”

He clenched his jaw, and Rynne took a step closer to him. “Fenris? Did I—” 

“I can’t read,” he said suddenly. 

She gaped at him. “You… what?”

He shot her a sardonic look. “You think they teach slaves to read?”

“I… I don’t know,” she said blankly. “I didn’t…”

“You didn’t think about it,” he said in a hard voice. “The same way as you don’t think about anything else.” He gestured angrily at her. “Disappearing on your own in the tavern, arguing with merchants, running away to join a pirate ship with nothing but the clothes on your back… You do whatever you like and damn the consequences, don’t you?” He dragged a hand through his hair. “You jump feet-first into everything. You never look before you leap. Does that never… frighten you?”

She stared at him, frozen by his unprecedented attack. She swallowed hard and tried for a smile. “Do you want me to answer that, or is it rhetorical?”

He shot her a sharp look, and she raised her hands in surrender. “All right, fine. I just… I like trying new things, all right? I never got to do anything new before I left Kirkwall. I mean, marrying Duke Prosper would have been something new, but being knocked around and raped by a man twice my age and size is not exactly what I’d consider a good time.” 

Fenris’s scowl softened at this, and Rynne took another step closer to him. “You’re thinking about risk-taking, aren’t you? Like what we talked about last night.”

He shrugged and looked away. “Perhaps. What of it?”

“Well, I just think…” She paused for a moment to collect her thoughts, then looked up at him. “You take risks if the cost is small. But… but you’re not thinking of how big the payoff could be,” she said slowly. “Maybe I prefer taking really big risks if the payoff could be equally big.” 

He glanced at her with wide eyes, and suddenly it felt like she’d solved some sort of puzzle: like she’d figured out the main difference between herself and him — the difference that seemed to make them get into these odd arguments when Rynne really didn’t mean to argue with him at all.

“It’s like this,” she said excitedly. “Say you could attack a small ship and collect a small booty, or a really big and well-fortified ship and collect a huge booty that could float the Lady Luck for months. Which would you pick?”

Fenris scowled. “Coin and treasure don’t matter. I told you that before–”

“It’s not about the treasure, you handsome fool,” she said impatiently. “It’s about – it’s – this is why I left Kirkwall,” she blurted. “Leaving everything behind was a huge risk. I own nothing now, and if Piper decided she didn’t want me on the ship, I’d be absolutely fucked. But it’s completely paid off!” She beamed at him. “I’ve got a new home, and friends I actually like and a job I enjoy, and I really like _you_ even when you’re snarling at me, and…” She trailed off as an exciting idea occurred to her. 

She grabbed his hand. “Can I teach you to read?” she asked. 

If possible, this only made him look even more discomfited. “Excuse me?” he said. 

She squeezed his hand. “Let me teach you to read. It’s only fair since you’re teaching me everything else. I bet you’d learn very quickly! Way more quickly than I’ll learn to handle a dagger,” she added with a smile.

He pulled his hand away. “I am not a charity case, Hawke.”

Oh dear. Clearly she’d said the wrong thing again. “I don’t see you as a charity case,” she said. “I just thought you might like to learn.” 

“What for?” he said roughly. He was scowling again as he rubbed at the scarlet ribbon on his wrist. “I don’t need to read. It has no bearing on what I do.”

She eyed him cautiously. If not for the nervous rubbing of the ribbon, she’d have thought he was furious. “It doesn’t matter if you _need_ to learn to read,” she said. “Do you _want_ to?”

His scowl deepened further. Then he ran a hand through his hair. “I _want_ to leave this shop. With your permission.”

_With my permission?_ she thought. Something about him saying that sent a thud of pain through her chest. 

“Of course,” she said. “Yes, let’s go.”

He nodded sharply, then strode toward the door of the shop. Rynne followed him out the door and back through the square, and neither of them spoke until they were on the beach with the golden sand squishing through their toes. 

The mood couldn’t possibly be more different than last night, however. Fenris’s face was twisted into a scowl, and he was pacing somewhat haphazardly along the shore, and Rynne wasn’t sure how to fix what she’d done. 

She trotted over to him. “Listen, if you keep brooding like this, you’re going to bring a thunderstorm over the town,” she quipped. 

“I don’t brood,” he growled. 

She laughed. She couldn’t help it. He was so obviously brooding. 

He glared at her, and she wilted slightly. “Fine, fine, you’re thinking in an angry and sexy manner,” she said. She tried for a hopeful smile. “I’d love to know what your angry and sexy thoughts are about.” 

“ _Venhedis fasta vass,_ ” he swore. He spun toward her. “Everything is a joke to you, isn’t it?”

She sobered. “No, it’s not,” she said. “I take lots of things seriously. For example, I’d love to know why you think you need my permission to do anything or go anywhere.” 

“What are you talking about?” he demanded. 

She raised her eyebrows. Did he really not know? “In the book shop back there. You said you wanted to leave, ‘with my permission’.” 

His face went slack with surprise. “I… didn’t mean that.”

She swallowed hard. Clearly some part of him had meant it, if it popped out without him knowing. 

She really didn’t want to ask this next question, but she had to. “Fenris, do I remind you of being a slave?”

He recoiled from her. “ _What?_ ”

She winced slightly. That may have come out badly. “I mean, does hanging around with me make you feel like… like when you were a slave? Because if I’m doing something to make you feel that way, I…” She nervously rubbed her bare arms. “Fuck, I would sooner punch myself in the face than make you feel that way.”

He frowned at her, but his frown didn’t seem angry anymore. “You are not… doing anything wrong,” he said slowly. 

Her stomach dropped. “But you still feel like a slave when you’re around me.”

“No,” he said firmly. His frown was deepening by the second. “Hawke, that is _not_ the case.” 

Rynne wasn’t convinced, though. A lump of distress was swelling in her throat, and she anxiously rubbed her sternum as though that could alleviate the pressure. She looked up at him, desperate to fix the problem. “How can I–” 

Then she broke off as she realized something: something horrible that should have occurred to her last night. Fenris’s protectiveness, the way he was always on his guard and always insisting on keeping her safe…

He was acting as though he was Rynne’s bodyguard. He _was_ acting as though he was a slave — _her_ slave. 

“Fuck,” she breathed. “ _Fuck._ Maker’s fucking balls.” She sat down heavily in the sand, feeling utterly crushed by guilt. 

She buried her face in her hands, and Fenris crouched in the sand beside her. “What is it?” he demanded. “What’s wrong?”

She swallowed hard. Fuck, this lump in her throat was going to choke her if it got any bigger. “ _This_ is why you’ve been spending all your time with me. Because… because I need protection.” At that thought, a flush of embarrassment joined the horrible guilt that was roiling in her gut. Here she was, hoping like an idiot that Fenris was starting to have feelings for her, when all he was really doing was falling back on habits from when he was a slave — all because Rynne was too incompetent to take care of herself. 

“That is not entirely true,” Fenris said. 

It was partly true, then. His confirmation just made it worse. Rynne tried for a laugh, but to her horror, a tear ran down her cheek. 

Fenris sighed. “Hawke, I didn’t mean… _vishante kaffas_.” He sat next to her in the sand. 

Rynne wiped her face impatiently, furious at herself for crying. Fenris had been a slave until a year ago. He was the one who was being forced to protect someone who couldn’t take care of herself. What the fuck did _she_ have to cry about?

“Ignore me,” she insisted. “I’m just being stupid. You’re the one who… I mean…” She sniffed hard and wrapped her arms around her knees. “You’re the one who’s been stuck babysitting the silly noble girl from Kirkwall.”

Fenris frowned. “You’re not… I — it is not…” 

He trailed off, and Rynne looked at him hopefully, but he didn’t speak again. Instead, he started idly tugging at the ribbon on his wrist, and Rynne wondered sadly if she should take it back if it was bothering him so much. 

But as she studied his wrist, her attention was drawn to the white lines that ran from his cuticles all the way up to his neck. From what she’s seen of his body, the tattoos seemed to be everywhere — on his chest, his shoulders, his shins all the way down to his toes — and Rynne couldn’t help but wonder if they really were… well, _everywhere._

She licked her lips nervously. She wasn’t shameless enough to ask how far the tattoos went, but there was another question she could ask instead. “Fenris, can I ask… the, er. The tattoos. Were they related to… to, uh… how did you get them?” she finished. Wow, she was being especially graceless today. She could just imagine her mother’s disapproving frown.

He didn’t reply, and for a long, terrible moment, she thought he might not answer her at all. When he finally spoke, his voice was very quiet. “My master, he… I was volunteered for a medical experiment,” he said. “The experiment did not go as they had hoped, but... it left a stain. Not only on my skin, but also on my soul.” His tone was pensive, and his gaze was on the sea. “The pain is gone, but the memory lingers.” 

“Shit,” she breathed. “That’s… fucking awful. I can’t even imagine.” She exhaled slowly, then gave Fenris a fierce look. “I’m glad you killed your master. It sounds like he deserved it.”

Fenris nodded, and they segued into silence for a minute longer. 

Rynne sighed. “Fenris… I never would have made you come to Rialto if I knew you’d feel this way, I swear.”

He shook his head. “You are not responsible. I chose to be here.”

“But I guilted you into leaving the ship,” she said plaintively.

“No, you didn’t,” he said firmly. He looked her in the eye. “It was my choice to bring you here and to protect you.”

She gave him a sad half-smile. “It’s not really much of a choice when the other option is ‘let Rynne wander like an idiot into a bunch of fights that she can’t win’.”

He smirked faintly, and Rynne felt a tiny leap of hope at his hint of a smile. She stretched out her legs and clapped her hands in a businesslike manner. “All right, listen. When we get back on the ship, I want to train hard,” she said. “I want to be able to fight every big huge man who grabs my arm, and… and to stab anyone who looks at me the wrong way.”

Fenris scoffed. “Then you will fit right in here in Rialto.”

“Good,” she said seriously. “I want that. I _want_ to fit in with all of you. If I want people to stop treating me like the Belle of Kirkwall, I have to stop acting like the Belle of fucking Kirkwall.”

He gave her an appraising look, then nodded once. “We will start training in a more systematic way once we’re back on the ship.”

“Perfect,” she said happily. Then she shot him a cautious look. “I… I hope you don’t feel forced to train me.”

He shook his head. “Don’t concern yourself with that. Being the master-at-arms is a job I chose.”

She exhaled slowly in relief and smiled at him. The corner of his lips lifted in a very small smile, and her juvenile, foolish heart did a little flip-flop in her chest. 

_Shut up, Rynne,_ she told herself. Given what they’d just talked about, there was really no reason to think Fenris had any kind of romantic interest in her.

But maybe if he didn’t feel like he had to be her protector anymore, that might change.

“Do you want to return to the book shop?” Fenris said.

She looked at him in surprise, then shrugged and leaned back on her palms. “Not really. I’m quite happy to just sit here with you. If you want to,” she added hastily. 

He nodded silently, and they both looked at the sea once more. A lazy, peaceful moment later, Rynne noticed that their shoulders were slightly touching. 

She glanced at him from the corner of her eye. His gaze was still on the gently lapping sea. 

She nibbled the inside of her cheek. Then, boldly, she shifted a little closer to him on the sand.

Fenris briefly glanced at her, then looked at the water once more, but he didn’t move away. 

Her heart did another tiny fish-leap of hope. _In for a copper, in for a royal,_ she thought. 

She leaned against him and rested her head gently on his shoulder. A few breathless heartbeats later, he shifted his shoulder slightly.

Rynne bit her lip. His head was touching hers now, and that couldn’t be by accident. 

She released a breath, then smiled and closed her eyes. She still had so much to learn: about being a surgeon’s assistant and about combat, and simply how to survive in her new life as a pirate.

But for now, sitting here with Fenris, she would just enjoy this perfect moment of contentment and of hope.

###  CULLEN 

Piper elbowed him gently as they strolled along the boardwalk back toward the main town square. “You look deep in thought, Golden Boy. Anything you care to share?”

She offered him a small burlap pouch of spicy roasted nuts, and he smiled at her as he accepted the snack. It was early evening, and Cullen’s mind was busily sorting through everything he had seen and learned throughout the day. 

Piper had given him a thorough tour of Rialto, and it had been extremely enlightening. She’d started the day by taking him to Rialto’s enormous food market for breakfast, where she’d plied him with a selection of strange treats he’d never tried before: spicy fried shrimp croquettes, a savoury cooked dish of salted cod and a strange yellow fruit called ackee, and a selection of local and exotic fruits that Cullen had only ever tried once before, or never at all. 

After breakfast, she’d led him back to the docks, saying she had a little bit of business to do while they were in town. Cullen watched with interest as she greeted and insulted the other pirate captains, trading news and negotiating for exchanges of goods and weapons that Varric would help to carry out later. While Piper did her business, Cullen inspected the docks with a critical eye, and he realized something interesting: the docks here in Rialto were smaller than the ones in Kirkwall, but they just as well-run and efficient as the military docks behind the navy headquarters and the commercial and passenger docks in Lowtown, if not louder with lively music and colourful language.

After their errands along the docks, Piper had taken him on a leisurely stroll through Rialto’s many town squares, and they’d spent a couple of hours inspecting the numerous sprawling markets. They’d explored a narrow alley populated by tiny artisans’ shops, and Cullen watched in fascination as humans and elves and dwarves alike made jewelry and pottery and paintings and hand-sewn garments and armour. 

At first, however, Cullen had difficulty enjoying the market, and Piper seemed to quickly realize why. She shot him a wry look. “You disapprove of all the bootlegged merchandise.”

“Yes, I do,” he said grimly. “I can almost guarantee that a generous portion of the goods on sale here are goods my men were charged with tracking down.”

She shrugged. “I wouldn’t doubt it.”

He frowned at her, and she shot him a chiding look. “Oh, Cullen, come now. I regularly sell stolen Tevinter merchandise, and I’m going to keep doing it. That’s just the way it is.”

Cullen pursed his lips. “I don’t like it. It’s blatantly criminal.”

“I know,” she said gently. “But that’s what every pirate is, in some way or another. You know that.” 

Her words were blunt, but her bright hazel eyes were kind, and Cullen sighed. “I do,” he said wearily. “It’s just… it is difficult to reconcile sometimes. The reputation and the reality. Both good and bad,” he added as he gestured to a display of fine — and obviously stolen — silverware. 

She shrugged and smiled. “Every pirate isn’t perfect. Just like every person in the Kirkwall Navy isn’t perfect,” she reasoned. “Just do what I do: forget the group affiliations and all that crap. Just keep company with the people you know you can trust.” She idly inspected a nearby selection of daggers.

“But that is the problem,” Cullen said.

Piper looked askance at him, and he lowered his voice prudently before explaining. “I was trained to trust my comrades. To trust my brothers- and sisters-in-arms, and above all, to trust the integrity of my commanding officers. But now… now I can’t do that.” He regarded her sadly. “You are very fortunate, Piper. Your crew, everyone who mans your ship… I’ve noticed how loyal they are to you.”

“That’s because I’m loyal to them,” she said. “We’re… you know.” She laughed and ruffled her hair. “Part of the ship, part of the crew. That’s how we do things on the Lady Luck.”

“But how did you know who to bring onto your crew?” he asked. “How did you know you could trust each of them?” 

She smiled cheekily at him. “Trying to learn a little something from the finest captain you know, hm?”

He smiled ruefully in return. “It seems that I do have something to learn about being a leader, given everything that’s happened.”

Her teasing expression softened with sympathy. “Oh, Cullen. That’s not what I… Meredith is the asshole who’s to blame in all of this, not you,” she said firmly. “As for the who-to-trust thing, I…well, I can’t help you much with that. I just…” She trailed off thoughtfully, then pressed her hands to her belly. “I trust my gut. That’s all I can really say.”

He nodded, and she smiled and led him deeper into the market. As they walked along looking at all the wares, Cullen realized that trusting his gut wasn’t something he was practiced at. Following the rule of law was second nature to him, but following his instincts wasn’t something he had really started doing until the past few months of his blood lyrium investigation. 

It wasn’t something he had ever really done before he’d met Piper. 

He glanced at her. It was hot in the market, and she had one hand holding back her mass of wavy silver hair while she smiled and chatted with an elven seamstress who was crocheting a multicoloured scarf.

Then she looked up at him, and her smile was so open and guileless and bright. At that moment, Cullen was seized with the instinctive, gut-deep realization that he could trust Piper with his life. 

As the hot Rialto sun slid across the sky and carried the day from morning to afternoon, Piper and Cullen made their way to the outskirts of Rialto where the city became more residential, and Cullen was amazed to find that there were farms here. Small farms, to be certain, but enough to provide a tidy livelihood for the people living here. People were raising chickens and snoufleurs, and they were growing a selection of warm-weather fruits and vegetables including bananas, sugarcane, mangoes, lychee, and breadfruit. People were also distilling liquor from the abundant fruits, and such an activity would have been illegal in Kirkwall.

Cullen wasn’t in Kirkwall anymore, however, and he needed to keep reminding himself of that.

And yet, Rialto wasn’t a completely foreign place. Yes, the laws were different — Maker’s breath, were they ever different; Cullen was still having trouble wrapping his mind around the eye-for-an-eye, hit-them-if-they-hit-you sort of mentality that reigned supreme here. But the pirates who came and went in Rialto largely respected the rules and seemed to agree with them. Rialto wasn’t the vilified, evil den of sin and murder that it was made out to be. Rialto was just… a town with a different set of laws. 

And the person who had helped him realize this was Piper. 

“Cullen?” Her voice broke through his thoughts, pulling him back to the present. 

He looked at her, and she smirked. “I thought I lost you for a minute there,” she said. She pulled a few roasted nuts from the sack in his hand, then popped them in her mouth. “Are you all right?”

“Yes, I…” He swallowed hard. “I wanted to thank you.”

She tilted her head. “For what?”

“For the tour,” he said. “For showing me… everything. It has been very informative.”

She chuckled and elbowed him once more. “You don’t need to thank me, Golden Boy. It’s been a totally selfish endeavour on my part.”

“How do you mean?” he asked. 

She grinned. “Well, dragging you all over Rialto meant I got to keep you to myself all day.”

His heart did a little leap. He remembered Piper’s words from the night before, the words she’d said to him on the beach that had set his pulse to pounding: _I like you, Cullen. I really like you._

Her words were simple and unadorned, but they meant a great deal. Over the course of the day — the past few days, really, if he was honest — Cullen had started to come to another realization: that his feelings for Piper were not only more than friendly, but were… _more_ than the feelings he’d had for either of his two previous partners. 

That wasn’t to say Lysette and Moira weren’t fine women. They were good people and good comrades, and Cullen had been saddened when those relationships came to their natural ends. But the love he thought he’d felt for each of them was dim in comparison to the nearly painful weight of affection that filled his chest when he studied Piper’s crooked grin. 

And the sadness he’d felt at the ends of those relationships was nothing compared to the squeeze of pain in his chest when he thought of Piper sailing away from Kirkwall on the Lady Luck.

But that was exactly why he couldn’t tell her how he felt. To share his feelings with her — to put the weight of this bittersweet knowledge on her shoulders: he couldn’t do that to her. Piper was free, a woman who merrily travelled wherever the winds carried her, and Cullen was tied to Kirkwall by his duty. If he told Piper just how much he cared for her, it would only make it harder for her to leave him behind.

She folded her arms and cocked her hip. “Okay, you _have_ to stop doing that.”

He swallowed the lump in his throat. “Doing what?”

“Looking at me like a mopey mabari,” she said. “You keep that up, and I’m going to have to get us blazing drunk again.” Her smile was playful and her tone was wry, but her eyebrows were lifted with melancholy, and Cullen silently cursed himself for making his feelings so plain. 

He rubbed the back of his neck. “I… I assure you, I meant nothing by it—”

Suddenly she lunged toward him — just to the left of him, in fact. “Gotcha,” she blurted. 

Cullen stumbled back in alarm. She was holding the shirt of a skinny elven child, who was struggling to free himself from her grasp. “Lemme go!” he squealed. 

Cullen gaped at the child with growing bemusement. He couldn’t be more than six years old, judging from his height. His face and his straw-blonde hair were filthy, and he was twisting fitfully in Piper’s grasp.

“Lemme go, lemme go,” he railed. He tried to twist around and kick her, but Piper crouched in front of him. 

“Give it back,” she said calmly. 

“Ain’t got nothin’!” the child shrilled. “Minding me own business, awright? Ain’t done nothing wrong!” 

Piper tilted her head in rebuke. “Come off it. I know you took this gentleman’s coin pouch. Now give it back.” 

Startled, Cullen patted at his waist. Sure enough, his coin pouch was gone. 

He frowned at the little boy, who scowled back at him defiantly, and Piper chuckled and held out her hand. “Come on, you little shit, give it back and I’ll show you how it’s really done.”

Cullen and the child both shot her a look of surprise. “Eh?” the child said. 

She gave him a knowing look. “You want to keep your stolen coin? You’ve got to steal it right.” She wiggled her fingers expectantly. 

The child eyed her suspiciously for a moment, then slowly reached into his pants and pulled out Cullen’s coin pouch. He placed it in Piper’s hand, and she handed it back to Cullen, then gave the child a frank look. “Your first mistake was picking the wrong mark. You’ve got to pick a mark who’s distracted.”

“He _was_ distracted,” the boy said, with another petulant glance at Cullen. “He was lookin’ all googly-eyed at you.”

Cullen cleared his throat uncomfortably, and Piper grinned up at him before looking at the child again. “That brings me to your second mistake. There aren’t that many people around. It’s much easier to pick pockets when you’re just another invisible elf in the crowd.”

The boy pursed his lips, and Piper tutted. “Your third mistake: being a fucking brat,” she drawled. “If someone catches you — and they will — you’ve got to cry and beg and say you’re trying to feed your mom and your little baby sister.” 

“Ain’t got no mom or baby sister,” the child muttered. 

“I know that,” Piper said, not unkindly. “But you have to make them think you do. Don’t try and fight them. Make them feel sorry for you.” 

He shot her a venomous look. “I don’t need nobody feeling sorry for me,” he spat.

“I know that, too,” Piper said calmly. “And you can fight one day, when you’re bigger and stronger. But don’t try to fight right now. Not yet. Find someone who can teach you to fight, but don’t fight just yet.” She pinched his cheek, and he jerked away from her. “You’re still cute. Use that, and save your fighting for when you’re big enough.” 

The child glowered at her, then at the ground. As Cullen watched, a single tear plopped onto the little boy’s overly-large shoe. 

“All right, tears,” Piper said briskly. “That’s a good start. You can work with that.” She rose to her feet and folded her arms. “Now go pick a mark and try again. I’ll watch your back.”

The elven boy wiped his nose and gave her another suspicious look, and she jerked her chin at the central square where the Hanged Man was located. “Look how busy it is. You pick the right pocket, you could eat off of that coin for a month.”

The kid looked longingly at the town square, then shot Piper another quick scowl. “You just want me to get caught so the Queen cuts off me hands.”

Piper threw her head back and laughed. “Are you daft? Queen Isabela doesn’t punish pickpockets. Besides, she’s my friend. If she got mad, I’d put in a good word for you.”

The child’s mouth fell open in awe. “You’re friends with Queen Isabela?”

“Of course,” Piper scoffed. “Who else do you think taught me how to pickpocket?”

The child stared at her for a moment longer, then nodded his head. “Awright. You’ll — you’ll help me if I get caught?”

“Yes,” Piper said. She jerked a thumb at the town square. “Now get going. Let’s see how much loot you can get.”

The little boy nodded eagerly, then scampered off. Piper turned to Cullen and gestured mock-gallantly in the child’s wake. “Shall we?”

Cullen nodded, then followed her and her new little friend toward the town square. Piper’s expression was pleasant, and she was humming very quietly to herself — so quietly that Cullen was sure she didn’t know she was doing it — but there was a fresh sort of ache in his chest, one that stemmed from Piper’s calm kindness when dealing with their tiny assailant. 

“Piper,” he said softly, “how do you know how to pickpocket?”

She smirked. “I didn’t learn from Isabela, if that’s what you’re asking.”

He studied her worriedly, and she shot him a flat look. “I hope you’re not angry about a little pickpocketing.”

“I – not necessarily,” he said. “I just wondered–”

“It’s a means of survival for a lot of children, you know,” Piper said. Her eyes were tracking the child’s progress as he slipped through the crowd. “His parents are probably dead or gone or sick. He’s just making his way in the world.”

Her tone was breezy and light as she led him toward the fountain in the middle of the square, and it made his chest hurt. When they reached the fountain, Piper took a seat on its edge, and Cullen slowly sat beside her. 

“And you?” he said gently. “How did you learn this particular skill?”

She kicked her feet idly as she watched the elven child wandering through the crowd. “It’s a funny story, actually. One time when we were making a quick stop in Ostwick, I ran into this magical goat that called itself Jimmy, and–”

He reached out and took her hand. “Piper.”

She smiled at him. “What, you don’t want to hear the story?”

He held her gaze until she dropped her eyes to her lap. Then he gently squeezed her hand. “You don’t have to tell me,” he said quietly. “I just… wanted to know more about you.” 

She smiled slightly but didn’t raise her eyes, so Cullen gently pressed on. “Varric mentioned you joined the Lady Luck when you were young. Did the… the pickpocketing have anything to do with that?” 

“In a way, I suppose. But not directly,” she said vaguely. She took her hand from his and started braiding a bit of hair near her temple. “I joined the Lady Luck when I was thirteen. I learned to pickpocket when I was nine.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Nine?”

“Yep,” she said. “That’s when my father died.” Her fingers were carefully twisting her hair into a small plait, and her eyes were on the elven boy and the crowd as she spoke. “My mother died while giving birth to me. It was just me and my father. And then he was ki– um. He died, so then it was just me running around in Wycome like a wild thing.” She chuckled. “That was his nickname for me, actually. _Alhasha’ghi’nain_ , or _alhasha_ for short. It means ‘wild beast’ in Elvhen.”

There was so much weight under the lightness of her words, and the ache in his chest was swiftly growing unbearable. Cullen swallowed hard. “You were… on your own from when you were nine until you were thirteen?” he said huskily. 

“Not really,” she said vaguely. “I had friends. Other kids, you know, other urchins like me.” She unravelled the two fine braids she’d just made, then started plaiting the hair at her other temple. “I was one of the older ones, so I couldn’t use the cuteness card. Not like our little friend here,” she said with a nod toward the crowd. “Luckily for me, that meant I got to learn to fight, and you know how much I love a good fight.”

Cullen glanced briefly at the crowd. The little elven boy was moving slowly among the chattering people, and his face was creased in a pout of concentration. 

Piper chuckled. “I forgot to tell him another rule: don’t hesitate. You’ve got to pick your mark and go for it.”

Cullen turned to her once more. “What do you mean, you had to learn to fight?” 

She glanced at him briefly. “Bigger kids, of course. The ones who got mean and tried to take from the rest of us.” Her gaze drifted back to the elven boy. “Had to fight the city guard once in a while too, though I wasn’t really big enough to do serious damage. That was more to distract them so the others could get away. I bet a few Wycome guardsmen still have scars from my teeth, though.” She grinned at Cullen, showing off the pearly teeth in question.

“And… and joining the Lady Luck?” he asked. “How did that happen?”

“Ah, I picked the wrong pocket,” she said casually. “I got overambitious. We were just really hungry, and I was sloppy. Tried to take the coin purse off some noble fuck, and he had me dragged to the courthouse. He actually got the judge to agree to a hanging, if you can believe it. The privilege of being rich, I suppose.” She laughed again, but the sound was distinctly brittle this time. 

Cullen stared at her in horror. “A hanging? For a thirteen-year-old?” 

“Mm-hmm,” she said. “Luckily, Deshanna was in the courthouse that day, and he offered to pay my bail and to remove me from Wycome for good.” She shrugged. “I guess the judge wasn’t a complete piece of shit, because he actually agreed to Deshanna’s terms. Or maybe he was just glad to rid the city of another piece of knife-eared trash.”

Cullen stared at her in silence. Piper had previously mentioned that Deshanna was the captain of the Lady Luck before her time, but Cullen hadn’t known she was only thirteen when she joined a pirate crew. He hadn’t known her only family had died at the tender age of nine. 

Just then, the little elven boy appeared in front of them. “Look!” he exclaimed, and he lifted his shirt. Hidden beneath his oversized shirt was a velvet pouch that was bulging with coin.

Piper whistled softly. “Damn, _da’len._ Great work. Now listen carefully.” She leaned in close to him. “Don’t keep it all in one place, all right? I know you want to admire your treasure,” she said as the child pouted, “but it’s not safe. Spread it out in a bunch of hiding places. And here.” She handed the child five silvers.

His face lit up even more, and Piper ruffled his hair. “Now get the fuck out of here, all right? Remember what you learned today. Maybe you’ll even impress Queen Isabela someday with your thieving skills.” 

“You think so?” he said excitedly. 

“I do,” Piper said. “Now go on and hide your booty.”

He beamed at her, then ran away. Cullen smiled at her. “That was generous of you.”

“No, it was generous of _you_.” She grinned and held up his coin pouch, which she’d taken off of him by stealth.

He scoffed and rubbed the back of his neck, and she laughed merrily as she handed back his coin. Then she playfully chucked his chin. “Don’t be sad for me, Golden Boy. I was quick and clever enough to take care of myself. And then I got to join the best ship in all of Thedas.” She smiled at him, and her smile was genuine and warm. “I’m far luckier than most. And I keep making my own luck every damn day.” 

Cullen nodded. His throat still felt tight, and Piper’s casual cheer only made the lump in his throat swell further. 

She tilted her head at him, then jumped up from the fountain and held out her hand. “Come somewhere with me? I’m in the mood for some music.”

He took her outstretched hand, and they made their way toward the beach. The sun was starting its gradual descent toward the horizon, and as Piper led him along the shore, he admired the way the sun’s setting rays lit her silver hair with a warm golden tinge. 

The beach eventually tapered toward a copse of palm trees which were arrayed around a rather nice little cabin, fronted by a small campfire. An elven man with tawny skin and blonde hair was sitting cross-legged by the fire playing a guitar, and a dozen other people were sitting and lounging nearby, or even dancing to the delicate melody in a slow and languorous sway.

The elf looked up as they approached and shot them a lazy smile. “Piper,” he purred. “It’s good to see you.”

She flicked his gold-adorned ear in greeting, then gestured to Cullen. “Zevran, this is Cullen. It’s his first time in Rialto.”

Zevran raised an elegant eyebrow at Cullen. “You don’t say? A pleasure, I’m sure. I do hope you’ll have time to enjoy _everything_ Rialto has to offer.”

Cullen smiled uncertainly, and Piper chuckled as she ushered him to take a seat on the sand. “You and Isabela. Shameless pair of tarts, you are.” 

Zevran smiled serenely, and his fingers danced across the guitar strings. “Ah, I can’t be blamed if the Queen and I are the two finest landmarks in this town.” 

Piper chuckled, then smiled at Cullen. “Would you like a drink?”

“Ah, not tonight,” he said apologetically. “Last night was… er, perhaps I’ll take a break for a day or two.”

Zevran laughed softly. “Did Mad Piper wear you out on your very first night? You’ll need to increase your stamina, my friend.” 

Piper stuck her tongue out at Zevran, who smirked in response. Then she settled herself beside Cullen on the sand. 

They listened quietly to Zevran’s playing for a while, and it wasn’t long before Cullen realized this was the first time in a very long time that he had listened to music. He frequently heard music in Kirkwall, played by street entertainers and at the occasional informal gatherings in the barracks that he admittedly rarely attended. But although he heard that music, he never truly listened, always too preoccupied with his duties and his worries to let anything else infiltrate his mind. 

Now, however, there was nothing else to preoccupy him. He was sitting in the sand by the fire with Piper at his side, and her Antivan friend was playing the nicest music he had heard – no, that he had _listened_ to in the longest time, and Cullen felt… he felt relaxed and loose, two traits he had never associated with himself. Not before Piper, in any case. 

He released a long, slow breath. Then Piper gently nudged his arm with her shoulder. “It’s good, isn’t it? Zevran is the best. It’s thanks to his nimble fingers, or so he says.” She rolled her eyes good-naturedly.

Cullen nodded. “It’s very good.”

She smiled. “Have you ever heard Antivan guitar music before?”

“If I have, I’ve forgotten,” he said apologetically.

Piper raised her eyebrows. “How could you forget? It’s such a unique sound!”

“It is,” he confirmed. “I simply…” He trailed off and rubbed his chin for a moment as he collected his thoughts. “These past two days have been unlike anything I can remember for years,” he finally said. “It’s… back in Kirkwall, I… In some ways, it seems as though I was barely noticing my life from day to day. I did my duties, I trained with my men, and… days passed by, _months_ , and I didn’t notice.”

She nodded, and Cullen gazed at her serious face with an ache in his chest. She was listening to him raptly as though his words were the most interesting things she’d ever heard, and he didn’t understand why. Cullen was just a navy man; he’d been in the navy for his entire adult life. Piper was the interesting one: the one with stories, the one who sought adventure and new experiences. She was the one who had shared those experiences with him, showing him more interesting things in the course of a single day than he’d seen in years. Cullen was trying new things and learning new things, and he was… Maker’s breath, he was in a pirate town and he was _enjoying_ himself, and it was all thanks to her. 

And now, sitting on this beach with this exquisite guitar music drifting through the fragrant evening air, there was something else Cullen wanted to try – something he usually loathed doing, and would have refused to do if he was anywhere else. But with Piper, everything was different. 

He swallowed nervously. They were leaving Rialto tomorrow, and then they would be in Kirkwall, and… and Cullen might never have another chance like this. 

“Piper,” he said, “would you care to dance?” 

Her face lit up into a brilliant smile. “Really?”

He nodded and stood up, and she laughed softly as helped her to her feet. “I thought you didn’t dance,” she said happily. 

He smiled wryly at her as he led her a short ways from the fire. “For you, I’ll try,” he said. He gently took her hand in his, then hovered his other hand uncertainly at her bare waist. He was never quite certain where exactly his blasted hands were supposed to go.

She stepped close to him — _very_ close, in fact — then took his free hand and placed it firmly at the small of her back. “This is how they dance in Antiva, Commander,” she said silkily. 

He looked down at her. They were standing so close that her thigh was brushing against his. The flickering fire highlighted the mischief in her smile, and Cullen could feel his blasted cheeks heating yet again. 

All the same, he settled his fingers more comfortably on the warm bare skin of her back. She was the one who knew this country, after all. Who was he to argue?

Piper led him in a slow, lazy circle, not unlike the other couples swaying slowly on the beach. A few moments later, Cullen began to relax as he realized no one was watching them; they were all too busy enjoying the lush melody spilling from the strings of Zevran’s guitar. 

She chuckled, and he smiled down at her. “What is it?” 

“You. Dancing,” she said playfully. “You looked so nervous, but it’s nothing to be afraid of, right?”

He huffed. “I suppose not.” He gazed at her fondly, studying the curl at the corners of her scarred lips and the dark shadows of her eyelashes on her tattooed cheeks. 

“ _You_ look happy,” he remarked softly. In truth, she looked absolutely beautiful, but he was not nearly bold enough to tell her so. 

She lifted her gaze to his face. “Of course I’m happy,” she said. “This is what I really wanted last night.”

She looked so earnest. Her lovely face was youthful but scarred from all the fights she’d had, and she was kind and fierce and beautiful, and the sweet throb of affection in his chest was swelling, stealing away his breath and prompting him to release her callused fingers.

He gently tilted her chin up. Her eyes widened, and her lips parted in surprise, and before Cullen could ask her permission, before he could stop to think, he was kissing her.

She instantly pressed herself against him, and Cullen rapturously closed his eyes as her arms slid around his waist. Her embrace was firm, but her lips were infinitely soft, and… Maker’s breath, her tongue was deliciously warm as it traced his lower lip, and the nape of her neck was like velvet beneath his fingertips.

An eon later, when she pulled away from him, he drew a slow, tremulous breath. Her lips were flushed from the kiss, and she looked more alluring than ever.

She was grinning at him, and… and he should say something, shouldn’t he? That would be the normal thing to do. “Sorry, I… that was, um… really nice,” he said lamely, then immediately regretted opening his mouth at all. 

Fortunately, Piper didn’t seem to mind his lack of charm. She tightened her arms around his waist. “I take back what I said before,” she said huskily. “ _That_ was what I really wanted.”

He smiled helplessly at her and stroked the back of her neck, and she let out a tinkling laugh before lifting herself on her toes. Then they were kissing again, delicious kisses that were sweeter and more tender than any of the fruit he’d tried today, and as he sank into the plumpness of her lips, he remembered something else she’d said last night. 

_You can have the things you want sometimes, Cullen._ As he and Piper swayed together on the beach, he realized she was right. 

For the first time in years, with Piper in his arms, Cullen had something he truly wanted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A WILD ZEVRAN HAS APPEARED FOR A CAMEO. Guys, I only know him from his appearance in DA2, so forgive me if he’s OOC. Also, if anyone says anything to spoil the Zev romance, I’ll shank them. I’ll play Origins someday, I SWEAR.
> 
> About Piper’s father’s nickname: I constructed it using [FenxShiral’s elvhen dictionary on AO3.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3719848?view_full_work=true) _Alhasha’ghi’nain_ actually means ‘ _cute_ little wild beast/creature’. Piper’s papa loved her very much. xo
> 
> Songspiration for this chapter:  
> [Your Hand of Sun and Jewels from the HZD soundtrack](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dxQhgsygIIU) was my vibe for FenRynne’s section of the chapter.  
> [Granada from the Vicky Cristina Barcelona soundtrack](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YBIl1-R3bkg&t=1s) was the inspo for the Cullen section of the chapter.
> 
> As always, you can find Schoute [here on Tumblr](https://schoute.tumblr.com/) and yours truly [here, as Pikapeppa! ](https://pikapeppa.tumblr.com/)


	12. Sparring

###  PIPER 

“... if we keep running downwind, we should be in view of Kirkwall before sunset,” Dorian was saying. “That will give you ample time to sneak into the city after dark and figure out where things stand. Rather perfect timing, if I do say so myself.” He complacently adjusted one of his many gold rings.

Piper shot him a knowing smirk. “You make it sound as though the favourable winds were _your_ making.”

“My fair captain, you underestimate the power of my dulcet words,” Dorian said loftily. “Who’s to say I didn’t whisper to the Old Gods themselves to blow some wind into your ragged old sails?”

Piper scoffed and shoved him. “Ragged nothing. These sails are perfectly patched.” 

“Yes, well.” Dorian shot the lovingly-patched sails a disdainful look. “The point still stands that we should be in Kirkwall by this evening.” 

“Excellent,” Piper said. “We’ve made good time. Better than expected, actually.” She leaned her elbows on the railing in front of the helm and watched as the crew sparred on the deck under Fenris’s supervision. Usually the trip from Rialto to Kirkwall took about eight days, but if they arrived tonight as Dorian predicted, the trip will have taken only seven. 

In the depths of her selfish heart, Piper was regretting how quickly they’d managed to return. 

Dorian leaned back against the railing and folded his arms. “So. What is the plan?”

Piper shot him a funny look. “You know the plan. We sneak into Kirkwall, see what’s happening—”

“I don’t mean that,” Dorian said dismissively. “I mean with our handsome blond guest.” He raised his eyebrows. “Is the fine commander going to be joining our illustrious crew?”

She returned her gaze to the sparring crew, who included both Cullen and Rylen. _That’s a good question,_ Piper thought. The shameful truth was that she didn’t know, because she and Cullen hadn’t spoken again about his joining the Lady Luck.

After that perfect kiss on the beach in Rialto, Piper and Cullen had spent another night in her usual room in the Hanged Man. But this time, very uncharacteristically for Piper, she’d kept on her clothes and hadn’t even tried to proposition him. She knew how Cullen’s mind worked, and she knew that he wouldn’t allow himself to sleep with her unless he decided to stay on the Lady Luck.

It was his sense of honour. Cullen was a serious man, and without even knowing his relationship history, Piper knew he hadn’t slept with that many people. Sex was something he took seriously, and he wouldn’t sleep with someone unless he was invested. Piper, on the other hand, was something of the opposite; it wasn’t that sex didn’t matter to her, but it had always been more about fun and pleasure than an expression of love. 

With Cullen, however, she had a terrible suspicion that sex would be different. She didn’t just want to sleep with him because he was handsome. She didn’t just want to sleep with him because it would be fun. She wanted to sleep with him because… well, because he was _Cullen_ , for Mythal’s sake. He was her Golden Boy, the finest man she knew, and… and she… 

She stopped herself before she could take that vulnerable thought any further. Regardless, after that first perfect kiss on the beach, they’d lain face-to-face on the bed in the Hanged Man — Piper beneath the covers and Cullen on top — and they’d talked about all sorts of innocuous things: little stories about his childhood, little stories about Piper’s own adventures, and innocent chit-chat about the crew and speculation about how long it would take for Fenris to admit that he liked Rynne. They’d talked late into the night until they’d both fallen asleep, and when they woke the next morning, they’d greeted the new day with another kiss. 

Piper hadn’t even really meant to kiss Cullen again. Well, she _had_ , but she’d been going for a kiss on the cheek, the same as she had done when he was asleep in her cabin on the Lady Luck. But just as she was about to place a gentle kiss on his stubbled cheek, he snapped awake. 

Piper froze with her face a whisper away from his. Cullen stared at her with wide eyes, and after a tense, breathless moment, he slipped his palm around the back of her neck and pulled her close. 

He kissed her softly — so infinitely softly, just a tender press of the lips — and Piper happily accepted his kiss, drifting dreamily in the softness of his lips and the ecstatic pounding of her heart until he leaned away from her with a tiny smile. 

And then they’d gotten out of bed and returned to the Lady Luck, and they’d set their course for Cullen’s return to Kirkwall, and neither Cullen nor Piper had brought up the issue of his remaining on the Lady Luck.

That didn’t stop them from continuing the new routine of sleeping face-to-face on her bed, with Piper hidden beneath the blankets and Cullen lying chastely on top. The first night back on the Lady Luck, Cullen had gallantly tried to sleep on her couch, but Piper had teased and cajoled him into sharing her bed. And the next morning, and every morning thereafter, they’d started each morning with a sweet, tender kiss. 

But every morning kiss they shared was one day closer to Kirkwall. And now, with Kirkwall practically in sight, it seemed that she and Cullen had shared their last morning kiss. 

_You don’t know that,_ she reminded herself. It was still possible that Cullen would join her crew. That was the whole point of not talking about it, after all; as long as they didn’t talk about it, there was still a chance that he would stay, and Piper would shamelessly cling to that chance until Cullen told her in no uncertain terms that he was going to remain in Kirkwall.

“Hello? Captain? Did your wonderful mad brain jump ship?” Dorian drawled.

She shook her head slightly, then smiled casually at Dorian. “I, um, don’t know what Cullen’s plans are. He’ll let me know when we’re back in Kirkwall.”

Dorian raised his eyebrows. “I beg your pardon?”

She shrugged confidently — far more confidently than she felt. “He hasn’t decided yet if he’s staying with us or not.”

Dorian’s eyebrows rose even higher. “Why in Andraste’s sacred bosom would he not stay with us?”

Piper widened her eyes. “I know, right? The Lady Luck is the best ship. Who in their right mind would turn down the chance—” 

“That’s not what I mean,” Dorian interrupted. “He’s in love with you. Of course he should stay on your blasted ship.”

Her stomach flip-flopped at Dorian’s words, but she laughed him off. “Ah, we’ll see what happens, won’t we?” She pushed away from the railing and sauntered back to her place behind the helm. 

Dorian turned to stare at her with his arms folded. “Do my ears deceive me? Is it possible that Mad Piper is being a coward?”

She bit back a spike of annoyance. Dorian was just trying to be a good friend. “Probably,” she said.

His eyebrows rose in surprise. “Wha–? You’re probably being a coward?”

“No,” Piper said. “Your ears are probably deceiving you. When was the last time you cleaned them? You are looking a little less than tidy, you know.” She gave his fastidiously clean outfit a judgmental once-over. 

Dorian tilted his head chidingly. “Ha ha. Laugh all you like, Captain, but you know I’m right.” He stepped closer to her and lowered his voice. “You should press him about it. Tell him what you want. You have to fight for what's in your heart.”

 _I already have,_ she thought sadly. That was what made this so hard. Piper had already told Cullen that she wanted him to join her on the ship. It was up to him to decide if it was what he wanted, too… and that was the most painful thought to endure. What if he said no? What if he ultimately decided to remain in Kirkwall? 

Her chest felt tight at the very thought. She mustered a smile and rolled her eyes at Dorian. “Yeah, yeah,” she said, and she waved her hand dismissively. “Stop hassling the Captain and get back to work, you gossipy git.”

He snorted, then unfolded his arms and began to saunter away. “And the descent into despotism begins. Don’t make me gather the officers for an intervention,” he called over his shoulder.

“Hah!” Piper retorted. “I’d like to see you try.”

Dorian waved lazily to her as he wandered away. When he was out of earshot, Piper heaved a heavy sigh and rested her arms wearily in the spokes of the steering wheel. 

A little while later, Varric joined her at the helm. “Cap,” he said affably. “Ready to change over?”

“Sure am,” she said. She disentangled her arms from the spokes and gave the wheel a loving pat, then stepped away from the helm.

Varric pulled over the sturdy box he stood on while manning the helm. He glanced at Piper as he stepped onto the box. “You all right, Captain?”

“Yep,” she said brightly. She tried to avoid his eye without being obvious about it; Varric was a little _too_ good at sussing out people’s feelings just by looking at them. 

“You know the drill,” she said. “Holler for me if the ship starts sinking, that sort of thing.”

He chuckled. “No problem.”

Piper traipsed down the short flight of stairs to the deck and wandered over to join the sparring group. They were standing in a loose circle around Cullen and Rylen, who were were facing off now, and the crew were playfully jeering at their structured navy style. 

Piper sidled up to Fenris, who was watching Cullen and Rylen with folded arms. She shamelessly watched Cullen thrusting and parrying for a moment before speaking to Fenris. “Where’s Rynne?” she asked. For the past week, Rynne had been splitting her days between medical training with Anders and combat training with Fenris. She’d started coming to the group sparring sessions for the past couple of afternoons, but she wasn’t here today.

“With Anders, I assume,” Fenris said flatly.

Piper hummed an acknowledgement and glanced at Fenris’s wounded right shoulder. He no longer wore a bandage, and the shallow slice across his shoulder was mostly healed, but the stitches were still in place. 

“How’s the arm?” she asked. 

He shrugged. His eyes remained on Cullen and Rylen as their blunted practice swords clashed together. “It is fine.” 

Piper nodded. “Stitches are still there, though.” 

He shot her a brief irritated glance. “And? What of it?”

She shrugged, unbothered by his terse manner. Fenris was notorious for picking out his own stitches rather than allowing Anders to remove them, purely in order to avoid contact with Anders. Piper was certain that the only reason Fenris still had his stitches was that he was waiting for Rynne to remove them, but she decided against asking him about it, not wanting to irritate him further. 

He’d been particularly quiet and broody this week whenever he wasn’t with Rynne. When he _was_ with Rynne, however — which was quite a lot of the time — he seemed to fluctuate between being uncharacteristically soft and particularly brusque. Personally, Piper wasn’t sure how Rynne could tolerate the whiplash of Fenris’s obnoxious mood swings, especially since he was obviously only being moody because he liked her. 

But it wasn’t Piper’s business to say. She didn’t really want anyone poking at her and Cullen’s business either, after all. 

“Just wanting to make sure you’re in tip-top shape in case we need to fight,” she said. 

Fenris nodded silently. A moment later, Piper leaned in close to him again. “Listen, Fenris, I know you’re worried about going back to the city, with the WANTED posters and all. But I promise—” 

“Stop,” he said quietly. “I stand with you, Piper.” He pursed his lips. “This is a mistake, but I won’t abandon you.” 

She smiled. Coming from Fenris, that might as well have been his declaration that Piper was his best friend in all of Thedas. 

She gently punched his arm. “Aw, Fen, no need to get sappy on me. I already know I’m your second-favourite person on the ship.” All right, fine, maybe she _wasn’t_ above poking him a little bit about his feelings for Rynne.

He shot her an annoyed look, and she smirked at him before returning her attention to Cullen and Rylen. A minute later, their match ended with the blade of Cullen’s practice sword along Rylen’s throat. 

The crew jeered and stamped their feet, and Rylen bowed to Cullen with a smile. “Well fought as always, Commander.”

Cullen smiled and nodded to his lieutenant. Fenris unfolded his arms and frowned at the crew. “Who is next?” he barked. 

“Me,” Piper said loudly. She took a step into the circle. “I challenge the Commander to a match.” 

The crew broke into a chorus of _oooh_ ing and stomping their feet, and Piper grinned at them before turning to Cullen with her hands on her hips. “How about it, Golden Boy?”

Cullen bowed gallantly. “I would be honoured, Captain Lavellan.”

The crew jeered more loudly at his manners, and Piper laughed. “There’s no place for such manners on the Lady Luck, Cullen,” she purred. She sashayed over to the rack of blunted practice weapons and selected a sword that nearly matched Cullen’s sword in length and weight.

“My apologies, Captain,” he said. “I will try to be less mannerly in the future.” 

He was smiling, and Piper grinned at him. Now _that_ was a cheeky remark, and one she’d be happy to exploit in a more personal setting, if ever he gave her the chance. 

He was standing in a typical navy man’s ready-stance, with his practice sword partly raised and his legs slightly bent. Piper sauntered over to face him and slowly ran her finger along the flat of his blade. 

“Such a rude boy,” she said silkily. “I’ll have to think up a special punishment for you.”

His eyes widened slightly, and his cheeks started to redden. The crew laughed raucously, and Piper grinned more widely still. Cullen wanted to make cheeky remarks to her? Well, she was more than happy to be just as _cheeky_ in return. 

She stepped away to face him and playfully mimicked his posture, eliciting another ripple of laughter from the assembled crew. Cullen narrowed his eyes and smirked, but he didn’t move. 

They watched each other in silence for a moment. Piper kept her attention equally on his face and his feet and the tip of his sword, but he didn’t move. 

So Piper took a small step to the left. 

Cullen moved smoothly to his left as well, and Piper grinned as they began to circle each other slowly. Sure, he could follow her steps, but he wasn’t going to make the first move. He was too well-trained to move first unless it was necessary. 

She cockily twirled her sword just to prove she could, and a chiding smile lit his face. Then Piper rushed at him.

 _Clang._ Their blunted blades clashed with a dull ring of steel, and Piper was pushing forward with a flurry of quick strikes that Cullen swiftly parried. Then Cullen dodged slightly to the left and brought his sword in close to strike at her side. 

She just barely dodged his strike and parried it with her sword, and an _ooh_ of interest went up from the crew. Piper skipped out of Cullen’s range and faced him, her eyes darting between his blade and his face, and as she took a second to catch her breath, she admitted the truth: he was the better swordsman. 

It was obvious, and it was something she’d known before stepping into this match with him. Cullen had over fifteen years of rigorous navy training, and while Piper had been scrapping since she was nine and fighting with all sorts of blades since the day she set foot on the Lady Luck, her form was nowhere near as perfect as Cullen’s.

But she had two tools that Cullen wouldn’t think to use: improvisation and dirty tricks.

He was in his ready-stance once more, and there was a small, smug smile on his lips. Piper laughed. “Think you’ve won already, have you?” she said.

He shook his head but didn’t break his stance. “I never discount an enemy until they’re flat on the ground,” he replied. 

“Is that so?” She twirled her sword once more and flicked her hair over her shoulder. “If you wanted me flat on the ground, Commander, all you had to do was ask.” 

The crew hooted in appreciation, and Cullen’s cheeks turned pink once more. Piper took advantage of his embarrassment to rush him again, this time dodging to his left to try and throw him off. He parried her just as easily as the first time, but Piper swiftly dropped to her knees and rolled beneath his arm, then popped to her feet behind him and pinched his bum. 

He grunted in surprise, and Piper ducked under his arm and dodged back around to face him. His face was flaming red now, and his eyes were wide. “Did you just… grab my bottom?” he asked in disbelief. 

“I did,” she said complacently. “Do you want to return the favour?” She turned to the side slightly and arched her back. 

His eyes dropped to her butt for an instant before flicking back up to her face, and she grinned. But still he didn’t move, and his sword hand was steady, and Creators, Piper wanted to throw him off balance. 

She sashayed closer to him, then reached out with her practice sword and slowly stroked her blade along the length of his with a faint hiss of metal. “Such a strong and stoic commander,” she teased. “Come on, Cullen, play with me.”

He didn’t move. “I didn’t realize this was a game,” he said.

She raised her eyebrows. “Of course it is,” she said. “And I’m winning.” She lunged at him again. 

He parried her instantly and pushed forward at the same time. Piper stumbled back, and suddenly his sword was coming down from above to aim at her head.

Piper brought her sword up just in time. His blade slammed against hers with a ring of blunted steel, and Piper braced her palm on the flat of her blade to hold him back. 

_Fenedhis,_ he was fucking strong. Her arms were trembling with the effort of holding him back. Her heart was pounding with exertion and undeniable excitement, and she couldn’t help but stare at his parted lips. 

Cullen took another aggressive step toward her, forcing her to lean back to alleviate the pressure of his blade on hers. _Focus, Piper,_ she scolded herself. It was all well and good to find his strength incredibly sexy, but it was another thing to be so riled up that she actually _lost_ a sparring match.

She twisted quickly to the side, escaping the incessant press of his blade, and he stumbled to the side, then smoothly swung his sword back up to defend himself as she lunged at him once more. His eyes widened as she rushed him, and suddenly they were face to face, and – _shit_ , her thigh was brushing between his legs, and only their crossed blades were keeping their bodies apart.

Piper gasped for breath. His gorgeous brown eyes were wide, and his chest was heaving as well, and this was the closest they had stood to each other since that beautiful night on the beach. His cheeks were turning pink, and a giddy rush rolled through her pounding blood at the thought of him remembering the moment too.

 _Focus, Piper, focus,_ she thought feverishly. _Don’t think about kissing him. Don’t think about your knee between his fucking legs. Focus on this moment._ She quickly slid her foot just behind his own, then shoved at his chest with all her strength.

He stumbled back over her foot, but Piper had used this trick on him a few months ago in Kirkwall, and Cullen was too well-trained to be fooled a second time. He brought up his sword while simultaneously finding his balance, and Piper grinned at him.

“Ooh, you’re a quick study, Commander,” she panted. 

“I would hope so,” he replied. “Otherwise, I–”

Piper lunged at him again, her sword lashing in a frenzy to keep him occupied as she pushed her way into his space. His eyes widened as he backed away, and a rush of excitement made her light-headed for a moment: she was about to win, she could see it, she could _feel_ it in the desperation of his parries—

She brought the edge of her blade up to his throat, and he froze.

But Piper froze as well. There was a fine and unmistakable line of pressure at the base of her ribs. 

Cullen was holding a dagger to her ribs — Piper’s own dagger, which he had taken off of her body at some point during the fight. 

The crew was silent for a moment before erupting in a wave of appreciative murmurs and applause, and Piper gaped at Cullen in equal parts disbelief and delight. Cullen had used a dirty trick. He’d stolen her weapon when she wasn’t looking, probably when they were clinched face-to-face. He’d… fuck, he’d used her own tactics against her.

He cleared his throat awkwardly. “You were, er, distracted,” he said. A bashful smile lit his face.

She stared at him, heart pounding with exertion and pride and… fine, _yes_ , she was fucking turned on. Standing this close to him and seeing the sheen of sweat on his chest, and knowing he’d broken the navy rules of engagement to get them both in this position… 

She dropped her sword and gripped his shirt in both hands. “Pirate,” she whispered accusingly. 

His face turned bright red. He’d dropped his sword as well, and his free hand was curved around her waist, and it was taking every ounce of willpower for her to not kiss him right here and now in front of the entire crew. 

_Stay with me._ The pleading wish rushed through her giddy mind. Cullen looked like a pirate, and he could fight like a pirate when he was pressed, and the innocent nights they’d been spending curled up face-to-face on her bed were better than the finest sex she’d ever had, and… Fen’Harel save her, but she _really_ didn’t want to lose him.

But she couldn’t tell him so. She couldn’t ask again for him to stay. As long as he didn’t say anything, he hadn’t yet said no. 

With a huge effort of will, she forced herself to release him and to step away. She turned to Fenris with a grin. “So? What’s your verdict, Fen?”

His arms were folded, and his eyebrows were lifted appreciatively. “That is what I would call a draw,” he said. 

The crew exclaimed in agreement, and Piper turned to Cullen. He was smiling at her, but his eyebrows were tilted in that sad way that she was really starting to dread. 

She bowed to him with a flourish to escape his sorrowful gaze. “Commander,” she said in a mock-professional manner. “We should do this again sometime.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Y-yes, I… I would like that.”

She smiled at him, then turned to the crew. “Keep it up, boys and girls!” she called. “A royal to the crew member who beats Cullen using clean tactics only!”

There was a fresh round of applause and laughter, and Cullen shot her a chiding look. She winked at him playfully, then slipped away from her gathered crew and made her way toward the stern. Her mind was a roil of uncertainty and pride and wistfulness, and her blood was thrumming with nerves and an inconvenient degree of lust, and she desperately wished she could go for a nice bracing swim to clear her head. 

Instead, she wandered back up to the helm and sat at the table. Varric briefly glanced at her. “Hey,” he said. “Back already?”

“Yeah,” she said. “I’m going to have a look over the maps.” She kicked her bare feet up on the table and pulled over one of Dorian’s maps. 

She and Varric were quiet for a while. Then Varric spoke again. “Sure you don’t want to talk?”

Piper looked up. He was looking over his shoulder at her, and his expression was neutral but kind.

She looked down at the maps again. So much for pretending everything was fine. Damned Varric was too clever for his own good. Still, she wasn’t really in the mood to talk. “Thanks, Varric, but I’m all right,” she said. 

“Okay,” he said affably. They fell quiet again, and Piper picked listlessly at the corner of the map for a minute. 

“No matter what, you’re going to be fine, you know,” Varric said suddenly. 

Piper glanced at him. His tone was matter-of-fact, but his expression was sympathetic.

She smiled and shrugged. She knew what he meant, but she decided to deflect. “Of course I will. We all will. I’ll be leading the charge, and you know how lucky I am.”

He chuckled. “I sure do.” He turned around to face the bow once more.

Piper smiled faintly at his back, then pulled over the captain’s log to start a new entry. She was a firm believer in making her own luck, and it really felt like she’d done everything in her power to draw Cullen into her world. 

She could only hope that it was enough.

###  CULLEN 

Cullen stood at the bow, his eyes trained on the foaming waves as they sluiced smoothly past the keel. As per Dorian’s report, they would be arriving in Kirkwall this evening, just a few short hours from now.

Earlier this morning, Piper, her officers, Cullen and Rylen had discussed their plans for the return to Kirkwall. They would sneak into the city via the Darktown docks and investigate the situation through Piper’s contacts in Lowtown and Darktown both, and Cullen and Rylen would make their way to the Chantry to speak to Mother Leliana. Then they would reconvene in Darktown and return to the Lady Luck to decide on their next move.

Piper had also made it clear that everyone was to be prepared for a fight. She and the crew of the Lady Luck would fight to kill any navy men who attacked them, and although Cullen didn’t like the idea, he understood her caution; they had to assume that everyone in the Kirkwall Navy was involved in Meredith’s blood lyrium smuggling ring. Piper’s crew were helping Cullen out of their loyalty to Piper, and it wasn’t Cullen’s place to ask them to risk their lives for the sake of a few navy men. 

Cullen sighed and leaned his elbows on the taffrail. He should be focused on the tasks ahead of them, but in truth, all he wanted to think about was Piper. 

He sadly studied the wooden grain of the taffrail. This was the spot where he and Piper had eaten breakfast together on his first morning on the ship. She’d sat on the taffrail in this very spot, with one long lean leg dangling over the edge as though nothing could ever hurt her. Now all Cullen could think about was how wonderful it would be to have breakfast here with her every morning. The thought of sitting here with her, chatting peacefully as the wind filled the sails overhead… Cullen wanted it so badly it made his stomach hurt. 

But he didn’t know how to make it possible. 

Sailors in the Kirkwall Navy served for life. There were ways to be discharged early, of course, but Cullen didn’t qualify for any of those. Assuming justice was done, he couldn’t be discharged dishonourably, since he hadn’t violated any of the navy’s laws of conduct. He wasn’t eligible for medical or compassionate discharge. He was well and truly stuck in his duty, and he hadn’t realized how stuck he felt until things in Kirkwall had fallen apart so badly. 

Piper wasn’t the only reason he wanted to leave the navy, but she was the catalyst who had made him realize how trapped he felt. The more he thought about it, the more he realized that he’d been feeling trapped for a long time. He hadn’t realized how rote his duties had become or how narrow his experiences had been until he’d found himself on Piper’s ship, and now that he’d spent a few days of freedom with her, he could hardly imagine going back to the life he’d lived before. 

But Kirkwall Navy sailors served for life, and Cullen could think of no way out.

Just then, Rylen’s voice interrupted his thoughts. “Commander,” he said as he joined Cullen at the bow.

Cullen nodded a greeting. “Lieutenant. Are you prepared for the return home?”

“I am. And you?” Rylen said.

“Yes, of course,” Cullen said. He looked out at the sea once more.

Rylen nodded. “Permission to speak, sir?”

Cullen raised his eyebrows. “Certainly.”

Rylen took a step closer to the taffrail. “I was curious about your plans after Admiral Meredith is deposed.”

 _A fair question,_ Cullen thought sadly. He smiled at Rylen. “I’m grateful for your confidence that she will be deposed. It’s a good attitude to have when we arrive.”

“Yes, sir,” Rylen said. “But you didn’t answer my question.”

Cullen smiled ruefully. He’d always admired Rylen’s tendency to get to the point. “Hopefully I will resume my position as Commander,” he said. “And I’ll be commending you for a promotion, mark my words.”

“I’m honoured,” Rylen said with a small bow. “But I wonder if you might not be commended yourself for a promotion to the position of Admiral.” 

Cullen raised his eyebrows. “Ah,” he said. Preoccupied as he’d been with his thoughts about Piper, the possibility of a promotion hadn’t even occurred to him. And now that Rylen had brought it up, the mere thought of it felt like a lead weight in his belly. 

He cleared his throat. “I, er, suppose I might be commended for Meredith’s position, yes.” Out of habit, he reached up to smooth a hand over his cravat, then felt even more discombobulated when his fingers touched his bare throat instead.

“I knew it,” Rylen said.

Cullen looked at him. “You knew what?”

Rylen raised his eyebrows and leaned casually against the taffrail. “You don’t want to return to Kirkwall, do you?”

Cullen gaped at Rylen for a moment. “That’s not — it hardly matters whether —” He broke off and straightened up, then frowned at his lieutenant. “I must return to Kirkwall, Rylen. I have no choice. It is my duty, just as it is yours.”

Rylen studied him for a moment without speaking, then straightened and tilted his head respectfully. “Permission to speak freely, sir.”

Cullen _harrumph_ ed and turned to face the water once more. “Haven’t you been already?” he muttered.

Rylen smirked. “With all due respect, I wonder if you might not consider resigning your post.”

Cullen stared at him in shock. “Is that what you... You think my actions have been in fundamental conflict with the concept of military service?” he demanded. Feeling angry now, he pushed away from the taffrail and glared at Rylen. “You truly believe I have acted against my duties as a commander?” 

“No, sir,” Rylen said calmly. “But that depends on how you look at it.”

“What are you talking about?” Cullen snapped.

Rylen settled his hands comfortably behind his back. “How do you feel about the anti-piracy laws in Kirkwall?”

“What do you mean, how do I feel about them?” Cullen said testily. “I wrote many of the blasted things.”

“And do you agree with them?” Rylen said.

Cullen glared at him, then rubbed the back of his neck. “I…” He trailed off, feeling increasingly agitated by Rylen’s line of questioning.

“Do you agree with them, sir?” Rylen pressed.

“No,” Cullen snapped. He glared at his lieutenant, feeling angrier than ever. “No, I don’t. I find them to be unforgiving and harsh, and if I am forced to become the Admiral, I will be lobbying in the Viscount’s office to have many of them reversed. Are you happy now?”

Rylen raised his eyebrows, apparently unperturbed by Cullen’s anger. ”You sound quite lenient towards pirates,” he said mildly. “That sounds like an attitude that’s in fundamental conflict with the concept of military service.”

Cullen stared at him. Rylen’s expression was both knowing and pointed, and the longer they gazed at each other, the more Rylen’s rugged face creased into a smile. 

Finally he bowed his head. “Just a thought. May I have your leave?”

“Y-yes,” Cullen said blankly. “Of… of course.”

“Commander,” Rylen said. He saluted Cullen sharply, then walked away. 

Cullen watched his departure in bemusement, then turned back to gaze at the rippling sea once more. To resign from the navy… the thought hadn’t even occurred to him. Cullen’s actions hadn’t been in conflict with the terms of military service, so he hadn’t even thought that resigning was a possibility. 

But what Rylen was implying — no, outright _suggesting_ : that he might try to resign on the basis of conflicting _attitudes_ … 

He leaned heavily on the taffrail and rubbed his jaw. It wasn’t the worst idea in the world. Even if he did apply to resign, however, most people had to wait for a month or so to know whether their applications had been approved, and Cullen didn’t know if Piper would be willing to wait for him for that long. 

The more he thought about it, though, the more possible it seemed. If he did what Rylen had said and framed his reasons for resignation as a set of conflicting beliefs and attitudes, maybe his resignation would be approved.

Maybe he could be lawfully freed from his duties. And maybe… maybe Piper would be willing to wait for him to join her. 

An undeniable rush of excitement pooled in his belly at the thought, followed by a surge of fear. Was he certain he wanted to do this? To discard his entire life’s work and start over at the age of thirty-five? 

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. But behind his closed eyelids, all he could see was the warmth of Piper’s sleepy morning smile.

He opened his eyes, then turned away from the taffrail and made his way to the crew quarters to find Rylen. If he was going to attempt this course of action, he was going to need his lieutenant’s help to make his case. 

And he would need to work quickly, before they returned to Kirkwall’s shores.

###  FENRIS 

Fenris straightened the last practice dagger on the weapons rack, then wiped his forehead and looked around. The rest of the crew had dispersed back to their usual positions after the afternoon sparring session, and Hawke was nowhere to be seen.

 _Still with Anders, then,_ he thought grimly. He would go and fetch her a bit early for their one-on-one training, since she’d missed the afternoon group session.

He made his way to the crew quarters and padded through the sleeping quarters toward the small infirmary at the back. Sure enough, Hawke and Anders were there. They were sitting at Anders’s workbench facing each other, and Anders was fondling Hawke’s neck. 

Fenris scowled and walked a little faster. As he approached them, he heard what Anders was saying. “...and palpating the nodes is one way you can tell if they have an infection. If they’re really unlucky, they might need their tonsils out, but that’s a last resort if their breathing gets obstructed.” He moved his hands from the side of Hawke’s neck to stroke the front of her throat. “Now, if you see a bulge here, it might be a goiter. You won’t often see that among sailors, but that happens when—” 

“Hawke,” Fenris interrupted. 

She and Anders looked up — Anders with a frown, and Hawke with a smile. “Fenris!” she said happily. Then her face fell. “Oh shit. What time is it?” She looked askance at Anders. 

Anders pursed his lips and checked his pocket-watch. “It’s… one thirty-six,” he said grudgingly. 

Hawke clapped her hands over her mouth and looked up at Fenris. “Fuck it. Fenris, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to…” She smacked Anders lightly on the arm. “You were supposed to tell me when it was twelve-thirty!” 

Anders grimaced. “I’m sorry, Hawke, I forgot about the time. Medicine is such a fascinating topic, it’s easy to get caught up.” He shot Fenris a disdainful look, then turned away to pet his cat, who was lounging lazily on the table. 

Fenris sneered at him, then looked at Hawke. “I will lend you a pocket-watch. Are you ready to train?”

“Yes, of course,” she said. She rose from her stool and squeezed Anders’s shoulder. “See you tomorrow morning, usual time?”

“Of course,” Anders said. He smiled at her and ignored Fenris, then went back to his work. 

_Cursed Anders,_ Fenris thought as he followed Hawke through the sleeping quarters. Of course he’d purposely sabotaged Fenris’s designated time with her. Never mind that the skills Fenris was teaching her were crucial for her survival, whereas Anders’s medical arts were… All right, fine, Fenris could admit that some medical practices were useful, but the research these doctors did was dangerous. The experiments that Anders sometimes did, like the time with that poisoned slaver? There was no excuse for that. And what if Anders started teaching Hawke to do the same? 

Hawke’s bright voice interrupted his thoughts. “So tell me, what did I miss?” she asked eagerly as he led her up the short flight of stairs. 

“You missed the group sparring, as you know,” he said. He opened the door and allowed her to pass, then followed her onto the deck. “Cullen and Piper faced each other.”

Hawke gasped. “They did? Oh balls, I would have liked to see that. Was it sexy? I bet it was very sexy. I bet Cullen’s face went redder than a pomegranate.” She wiggled her eyebrows playfully. 

Fenris huffed in amusement. “His face was quite red by the end, yes.” He glanced at the sky briefly; it was just starting to rain, and based on the ominous-looking clouds overhead, it would probably worsen before it got better. 

Unconcerned, he led Hawke over to the rack of practice weapons. He selected a dagger and held it out to her, but she was frowning at the sky. 

“Fenris, can we practice somewhere indoors?” she asked.

He shot her a chiding look. “You should learn to fight in the rain. It will add an extra element of discomfort and challenge.” He gestured for her to take the practice dagger. In truth, Fenris was pleased with Hawke’s progress over the past week. He’d taken to training her in private for a few hours every afternoon since they’d left Rialto, and true to her word, she was taking their sessions very seriously. She was focused and attentive, and she really was a rather fast learner, picking up a number of offensive and defensive techniques in the time they’d been working together.

She was still far from ready to face a fight, however. She was still getting… distracted at times during their sessions, and she got particularly flustered whenever Fenris used maneuvers that involved pinning her limbs, or grabbing any part of her body, really. But Fenris was forcing her to keep working despite her distraction, and to her credit, she was valiantly doing her best. 

Besides, Fenris could barely fault her for her distraction, seeing as he was finding _her_ very distracting too. She’d purchased a pair of fitted trousers in Rialto so she wouldn’t have to borrow Dorian’s anymore, and Fenris was rather disgruntled to admit how alluring he found her new garb. He’d only seen her wearing voluminous skirts or Dorian’s trousers before, and seeing her now in trousers that actually fit — that hugged the curves of her waist and her backside… 

Thankfully, Hawke dragged him out of the morass of his inappropriate thoughts. “I appreciate that it’s an added challenge, but this is my only pair of trousers,” she said. “I’d rather like to keep them dry until I have a backup pair.” 

He gave her an exasperated look. “Hawke, it’s just water. You can change into something else until they dry.”

“Yes, but they won’t dry before we get to Kirkwall,” she said. “What if there’s a chance that I can come to the city with you?”

He frowned. “That will not happen,” he said. “You heard Piper’s orders. You won’t be needed for the recon part, and you are not ready yet for a fight.” He gestured again for her to take the practice dagger from his hand.

“Can’t I come with Anders to help with anyone who gets injured?” she wheedled.

“No,” Fenris said bluntly. “Some of the crew need to remain and guard the ship.” 

She raised her eyebrows. “And you really think I’ll be a good candidate for guarding the ship?”

He opened his mouth to retort, then wilted in exasperation; Hawke’s chin was lifted stubbornly, but she was hugging her midriff as though to defend herself from the steadily worsening rain. 

“ _Fasta vass,_ ” he growled. “Come.” He strode toward the door to the officer’s quarters, then shoved open the door to his cabin and gestured impatiently for her to enter.

She slipped into his room, and he closed the door behind them and folded his arms. “It is very unlikely that the ship will be boarded,” he said. “The risk to you is much lower if you remain here.”

She sighed and gave him a pleading look. “Fenris, please, can’t I ask Piper if—”

“Hawke, enough,” he said firmly. “If you want to keep yourself safe on our sorties, you need more training.” 

“I’m not incompetent anymore,” she complained. “I’m not great, but I know enough to fight off a simple attacker and flee.”

He lifted one eyebrow. “Is that so?”

“Yes,” she said confidently. 

“Good,” he said. “Then show me.”

She frowned. “What?”

He lunged at her suddenly, clamping one arm around her waist and dragging her back against his chest. He held his practice dagger to her throat. “Show me,” he said in her ear. “Show me that you can escape from this hold.”

She didn’t reply. She was breathing hard; he could feel the rapid rise and fall of her ribs beneath his palm, and her hands were instinctively gripping his wrist. 

He pressed the blunted dagger more firmly to her throat. “Show me,” he snapped.

She grunted and pulled on his wrist, then went limp in his arms with a frustrated groan. “Fenris…”

He released her and stepped away. “This is why you should remain on the ship. It is not safe for you to leave yet.” He inhaled carefully through his nose to calm his thrumming heart.

She frowned at him, and he tried to ignore the way her chest was rising and falling as she caught her breath. “That wasn’t fair,” she complained. “You took me by surprise…” She trailed off and winced.

Fenris gave her a look of rebuke. “Every attacker will—” 

“–take me by surprise, I know,” she interrupted. She ran a hand through her short hair. “I’m an idiot.”

He shook his head. “No,” he said. “You are inexperienced. You need more practice.” He hunkered down in an offensive stance. 

Hawke exhaled slowly, then nodded. Fenris waited for a beat, then lunged at her with the dagger.

She grabbed his wrist and shoved his dagger-holding hand back towards his hip, just as he’d taught her. Then he grasped the back of her neck with his free hand and dragged her close. 

She released his wrist with a gasp, and Fenris struck toward her belly with the dagger. 

She froze. “Fuck,” she whispered.

Fenris released her and stepped back. “Tell me what you did wrong.”

“I let go of your wrist,” she panted. 

“Correct,” he said. “Try again.”

She tossed her head impatiently to clear her bangs from her face, and Fenris noted the attractive pink flush of her cheeks and lips. He swallowed hard, then lunged at her again. 

She grabbed his wrist firmly, and this time she kept her grip when he pulled her head down. But when he twisted his wrist to free his hand, her grip loosened. 

“Fuck!” she snapped. She stepped away from him, then wiggled her shoulders as though to loosen them up. “All right, I’m ready. Let’s go again.”

Fenris nodded, then attacked her once more. She grabbed his weapon-wielding wrist with both hands this time to control the dagger, and when Fenris pulled back on his arm, she shoved forward in an attempt to throw him off-balance.

It was a solid attempt, but not solid enough. He used Hawke’s momentum against her and pulled hard with his dagger-bearing arm, dragging her toward his body. A moment later, his arm was around her waist once more, and the dagger was at her throat. 

She was audibly gasping for breath now. She grabbed his wrist in both her hands and pulled, trying to free herself from the weapon and from his arm, but Fenris wouldn’t let her. 

“Pull harder,” he urged. 

“I’m trying,” she snapped. She pulled hard on his wrist with both hands, then finally gave up and leaned back into his chest. 

“Fucking Maker’s bloody balls,” she complained.

She was getting hot from exertion. He could feel the warmth of her skin through her thin linen shirt. He inhaled the sandalwood scent of her hair, then spoke quietly in her ear again. “You can do this,” he told her. “You have done it before.”

“I know,” she said. “It’s just…” She trailed off, her rib cage rising and falling steadily under his arms, and Fenris waited with bated breath for her to finish her thought.

“You know you don’t have to babysit me anymore, right?” she finally said. “No one is holding you responsible. I’m just… if I come to Kirkwall, it’s on me, not you.”

Fenris frowned. “That’s not… you are not my ward. That’s not why I want you to stay on the ship.” 

She looked at him over her shoulder. “So you admit it _is_ you and not Piper who wants me to stay on the ship,” she said shrewdly. 

He frowned more deeply. Then he realized how intimate it was for him to still be holding her against his chest, with his free hand on her belly and his lips so close to her ear.

His ears felt hot. He hastily released her and folded his arms. “It was my recommendation that you remain on the ship, yes.”

She wilted. “Fenris, I just want a chance to join you. I just want a _choice_. Why can’t you give me that?”

“Because I want you safe,” he snapped. “You’re not ready to fight yet. You could be gravely injured. As the master-at-arms, it is my opinion that—” 

“That I’m useless, right?” she interrupted.

He steadily met her gaze. “No. I don’t think that anymore,” he said quietly. “You are not useless, Hawke. You are simply not ready.”

She folded her arms and scowled at her feet, and as Fenris studied her petulant and pretty face, he felt an odd squeezing sensation in his chest. She was so determined to improve but so damned impatient, and she was hardworking but stubborn, and he couldn’t decide if this was an obnoxious combination of traits or an endearing one.

She looked up at him with a frown. “Fine. Let’s keep practicing, then.”

He relaxed slightly, then offered her the practice dagger. “We will change roles. Attack me. Let’s see how close you can get.”

She nodded and twirled the dagger — a little trick she’d picked up from Piper, to Fenris’s amusement — then rushed at him with the dagger aiming at his belly. 

He grabbed her forearm and forced it down, and she drove into him relentlessly, hunching low to shove her shoulder against his chest in an attempt to unbalance him. Fenris deftly slid his foot behind her legs and tripped her. 

She gasped and dropped the dagger as she fell. An instant later, she was pinned on the threadbare carpet beneath him, and he was holding the dagger to her throat. 

They froze for a moment, and Fenris stared at her wide copper eyes and her parted lips. Her chest was heaving with exertion, and he could see a glimpse of her simple breastband beneath her rumpled linen shirt.

“Fenris,” she said softly. 

He nervously licked his lips. “Are you hurt?” he grunted. He lessened the pressure of the practice dagger on her throat. 

She didn’t move from her supine position. “I want to come with you,” she said.

He frowned and sat back on his heels. “Hawke—”

She sat up with him. “I want to be with you when you go to Kirkwall,” she insisted. “I want… I want to be with you.”

He froze and stared at her, struck speechless and lightheaded by her words. Did she mean… what did she mean by that? _I want to be with you_ — what did that mean?

She took advantage of his silence, shuffling closer to him and taking his hand. “Those WANTED posters are probably still up in Kirkwall. They’re going to be looking for you specifically, you and Piper. I… if I’m with you, maybe I can talk them down.”

Her expression was both eager and fierce. She was looking at him like _he_ was the one who needed protection, and it made his throat swell in an odd way.

He pulled his hand from hers and pushed himself to his feet. “I don’t need you to speak for me,” he said. 

“I know you don’t. I know that,” she said as she stood up. “I just… I don’t like the thought of…” She nibbled her lip, then took a step closer to him. “Fenris, I want to be with you.”

Her cheeks were turning pinker by the second, but her face was utterly serious, and Fenris knew what she meant: she wasn’t talking about Kirkwall anymore. 

He turned away from her and rubbed the ribbon on his wrist. Her words were warm and insistent, and they seemed to burrow beneath his skin, making him feel both excited and terribly, shamefully afraid. 

He hadn’t expected this. He hadn’t expected Hawke to say anything like this to him. He wanted her, yes, but he thought he’d have time to think: time to prowl carefully around the idea of being with her and what it would mean. But her words were pushing him, and she was standing here in his quarters with her shirt hanging off one shoulder and her flushed cheeks and her heart shining in her beautiful copper eyes, and Fenris couldn’t _think_. 

This room was too small to hold everything that was happening here: the words she was saying and the look on her face and the shared heat of their bodies as he trained her. And only one of those things was something he could control. 

He took a deep breath and turned to face her. He held out the practice dagger. “Again, Hawke. Attack me.”

Her expression grew pleading, and Fenris glared at her. “Attack me,” he commanded.

She clenched her jaw, then took the dagger from his hand. They stared at each other tensely for a moment, then Hawke lunged at him.

He was distracted this time, preoccupied by his roiling thoughts, and the tip of Hawke’s dagger almost reached his belly. He grabbed her wrist at the last second, and she ploughed into him relentlessly with her shoulder, shoving hard against his abdomen as she tried to pull her wrist from his grip. Her attack was chaotic and wild, taking Fenris somewhat by surprise, and the logical part of his mind could appreciate the approach; thugs wouldn’t expect such a chaotic attack from such a delicate woman, so she would retain that element of surprise. But Fenris was too well-trained to be thrown off. 

She slammed her shoulder into his chest and kicked at his shins, all the while trying to free her wrist from his grip. Fenris held her off until he found an opening, then dipped his shoulders down and grabbed her around the legs. 

He pulled her feet out from under her, and she squealed in alarm as he spilled her onto her back with his palm cradling the back of her head. A split second later, he was straddling her again with the practice dagger to her throat.

He stared into her eyes. She was panting fitfully, and her pulse was fluttering in her throat. Then, to his mixed dismay and delight, she lifted her hips beneath him and twisted her spine.

A lance of heat rushed through his body. Hawke reached up and grabbed the open neck of his tunic. “Fenris,” she breathed. “I want to be with you.” 

He dragged in a breath. He couldn’t think. His mind was stifled by her pleading words and his own roaring pulse, and he couldn’t tell anymore if the nervous thrumming in his blood was agitation or irritation or lust, a burning sort of lust that he’d never really felt before… 

Hawke tugged the collar of his tunic. “Fenris, please,” she begged. “I want—”

He dropped the dagger and kissed her. 

She parted her lips and whimpered, and the tiny sound of her pleasure drove any remaining thoughts from his mind. All he could see was Hawke: the pliant twisting of her captive body, the insistent stroke of her fingers on his neck, and then his hand was sliding bold and undisciplined along her waist, feeling the lines and angles of her ribs as she arched her spine. 

She was panting, little gasping breaths between the kisses he was bestowing upon her flushed raspberry lips, and when Fenris slid his hand beneath the small of her back, she released his tunic and scrabbled at the hem of her shirt. 

Startled by her frantic movement, Fenris broke away from her lips, then gaped at her as she started pulling up her shirt. “Hawke, don’t — you don’t have to—” 

“I want to,” she panted. She clumsily pulled her shirt off and threw it aside, then looked him in the eye. Her face was blazing with desire, and her nipples were budded beneath her breastband, and Fenris felt dizzy for a moment as a fresh pulse of lust bloomed low in his belly.

“Will you touch me? Please?” she breathed.

He swallowed hard. His heart was roaring in his ears and pounding between his legs, but this all seemed to be moving too fast; it _was_ too fast, wasn’t it? It felt good – _venhedis,_ did it ever feel good, and so fucking _right_ that he didn’t want to stop and he didn’t want to think. But Hawke was a maiden, and they’d barely known each other for two weeks — 

She arched her back and grasped his arm. “Please, touch me,” she begged. “I want you to. I’ve been thinking about this all fucking week.” She laughed breathlessly. “I swear I’ve been paying attention during our lessons, but half the time I was hoping you would teach me _this_ instead.” 

He scoffed, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the tight little buds of her nipples. “Why am I not surprised that this is what you were thinking about?” he drawled.

She laughed again, then took his hand and placed it on her ribs. “Are you telling me you weren’t thinking about this? Not even a little bit?”

He licked his lips nervously and didn’t reply. He couldn’t very well admit that he’d been thinking about this since the day she joined the ship. 

Her ribs were rising and falling beneath his palm, and his hand was so close to her breast. Unable to resist the temptation, he ran his thumb over her nipple, and her face twisted with pleasure. Then Fenris was kissing her again, twining his tongue hungrily with hers while he palmed her breast and teased her nipple with his thumb. Hawke was writhing beneath him, trying to lift her hips even though he was straddling her, but Fenris couldn’t move: he was captivated by the taste of her, by the sound of her whimpering moans and the sweet gentle curve of her breast beneath his palm and the delicious scent of her skin — 

And then her eager hands were pulling on his tunic, untucking it from his breeches, and Fenris broke away from her lips as her fingers burrowed under the hem of his tunic to feel his skin. 

His breath stalled in his chest. _Wait,_ he thought, but his tongue was frozen. 

Hawke slid out from beneath him and kissed him once more, and he instinctively parted his lips to permit the entry of her tongue. Then she was straddling his lap and kissing him still, and his cock was clamouring for her to press her hips down against him. But her hands were petting his chest beneath his shirt, a tender and exploratory touch – her hands… 

_Strange hands on his skin._ He didn’t like strange hands touching his skin. But these weren’t strange hands; they were Hawke’s hands, and he had fantasized about this — about her touching him gently and kissing him sweetly like she was right now — but this was too real. 

Fantasies were safe. In the privacy of his mind, he could control what she saw and what she’d say, and he didn’t need to worry about what happened after. But _this_ — this torrid embrace, this hedonistic tangle of hands and skin and tongues, this nearly-painful pounding of his heart as he thought of her telling him she wanted to be with him: this was too real, and it was dangerous, and… he wasn’t ready. 

He wasn’t ready for Hawke to see him. She’d already seen more than he’d meant to share, prying information from him with her curiosity and her attentiveness and her incessant questions. If she _saw_ him, saw his cursed tattoos and what it had cost him to get them, and what he’d lost afterwards… 

_Goodbye, Leto._ His sister’s farewell rang in his ears, reminding him of the cost of caring about someone, and how much he had to lose by letting anyone get close.

Hawke took hold of the hem of his tunic and started pulling it up, and Fenris grabbed her hands and broke away from her kiss. “Wait,” he gasped. 

Her hands fell still. “Is everything all right?” she panted. 

He stared at her in despair. Her eyes were blazing with enthusiasm, and her spine was arched as though to press her body closer to his, and not for the first time, Fenris was visited by the wish to be someone else: someone undamaged and _normal_ , who could enjoy being wanted by a woman such as Hawke without fearing what he could lose. 

He gritted his teeth, then pushed her hands away. “This is… it’s too much. This is too fast,” he rasped. He swallowed hard. “I cannot do this.” 

Her smile faded slowly into shock. “Wh-what? Why? What’s wrong?”

He dropped his gaze. His eyes were burning, and he couldn’t bear to look at her. “I’m… I am taking advantage of you,” he blustered. He gingerly started easing himself out from beneath her. “My purpose is to train you, and… it’s inappropriate—”

“Bullshit,” she said. Her eyes were wide and distressed as she watched him rising to his feet. “The training was going fine all week. This wouldn’t interfere with that. What’s really the matter?” She rubbed nervously at her throat. “Is it something I did? I — I don’t mean to fuck this up, you can tell me if I did something wrong.” 

“It is nothing you did,” he said distractedly. “You were… it was fine.”

Her face fell further, and his gut twisted as he realized how callous he sounded. “No,” he blurted. “That was insufficient. I… I have never been kissed this way, Hawke. It was…” _It was better than anything I ever dreamed,_ he thought, but he pressed his lips together before he could tell her that. In truth, this was the only kiss he’d ever had that wasn’t an empty expression of lust. This was the only time he’d ever been kissed by someone who _cared_. But he couldn’t tell her that without making himself more vulnerable. 

She stepped closer to him. “Fenris, you can talk to me. Honestly, if I did something wrong, let me fix it.”

He backed away from her. “You did nothing wrong,” he insisted. 

“But… but if you liked it, why did you stop?” she asked. 

Her voice was trembling, and Fenris dragged his hands through his hair. He could feel his shoulders tensing with agitation at her questions, but it wasn’t her fault; this was Fenris’s fault alone. Hawke was just trying to be close to him for some reason, and she was so shiny and bright with hope and positivity, and… and letting her in had been a mistake.

“I’m sorry,” he said. His voice sounded strained to his own ears, but he tried to ignore it. “I didn’t… this should never have happened. Forgive me.” 

Her face crumpled in distress, and she folded her arms defensively across her middle. She suddenly looked very young, and the surge of self-hatred in his chest was enough to stop his breath for a moment. 

He dropped his gaze and moved toward the door. “I… I will leave you alone for a moment—” 

“No,” she said. “No no, this is your quarters. I’ll, um. I’ll go and, um, practice my stitches or something. Or maybe I’ll practice swan-diving off the side of the ship! That sounds like a very good pastime, I think.” She laughed weakly and picked her shirt off the floor. 

Fenris watched in agony as she clumsily pulled on her shirt. She sidled toward the door and reached for the knob.

Then she suddenly turned to face him. “Tell me honestly that you don’t want this,” she said.

Her eyes were reddened, but her expression was fierce. He stared at her, tongue-tied by her sudden confidence, but the longer he went without speaking, the more her face began to twist with hurt.

He swallowed hard. “Hawke—”

“I like you, Fenris,” she blurted. “I know I’m naive and I’ve probably read too many smutty bodice-rippers, but I really like you. I just…” She swallowed hard and smiled at him. “Let me know if you change your mind, all right? I’ll be around. We live on the same ship, after all.” She let out a weak little laugh, then stepped out of his quarters and closed the door, leaving him alone. 

He gazed vacantly at the doorknob for a moment, then slowly walked over to his spartan bed. He sank down on the mattress and buried his head in his hands. 

If only he’d had time to think. If he’d had time to… to grow accustomed to the idea of being with Hawke. But having her stretched out beneath him, lifting her hips and telling him she wanted to be with him… 

He gritted his teeth. Hawke was so damned impulsive, with her heated smile and her teasing and her begging him to touch her. If he’d had more time, if he’d been able to keep his distance for a little longer, then maybe…

Maybe she would have stayed at a distance forever, and Fenris could have continued his staid, risk-free life of being left alone. He could have continued his routine of working and sailing. He’d been living that way for a year now, and it was a safe and steady life. 

But a moment from their stay in Rialto suddenly sprang to his mind – a vivid, heart-wrenching moment: Hawke lounging on his lap on that bench in the morning. She’d seemed so comfortable and happy, with her eyes closed and a little smile on her lush red lips, and that was what shocked Fenris the most: that she felt so comfortable and so trusting to sit that close to him. 

And now he’d pushed her away, mere minutes after she’d asked him to be with her. Mere moments after she’d given him the most breathtaking kisses he’d ever had.

He scrubbed his hands ruthlessly through his hair. _It was a mistake,_ he thought. But as he remembered her heated smile and her tender fingers on his chest, he couldn’t decide whether the greater mistake was the kiss, or letting her walk away.

###  RYNNE 

Rynne closed Fenris’s bedroom door behind her, then pressed her lips together hard. Her eyes felt like they were burning, but she refused to cry. It was silly enough already to feel so upset about a man she’d only known for two weeks, and she didn’t want anyone to see how foolish she was being.

She stood in silence outside of his door for a minute, breathing carefully and collecting herself. When it no longer felt like she was going to choke on her own tears, she wrestled her face into a smile and walked up the stairs back onto the deck. 

It was raining still; more of a faint drizzle now than the steady downfall from earlier, however, and Rynne slowed down as she made her way toward the crew quarters. She frankly felt like shit, and she could really use some company to cheer up. 

Unfortunate, then, that Fenris had become her primary source of company over the past week. He’d been spending time not only training her, but sitting with her during meals and playing cards with her and the other crew, and even meditating quietly beside her on the bow one evening while she was reading.

Her throat thickened with a fresh wave of tears, and she swallowed hard to force them down. _It’s fine,_ she told herself. It wasn’t a big deal that Fenris had rejected her. It wasn’t like he was the only man she’d ever really had feelings for in her entire life or anything like that.

Except that’s exactly what it was. Shit, she was really bad at cheering herself up. 

She roughly rubbed her face and looked around. Everyone on the deck was busy, and rightfully so; they’d be arriving in Kirkwall quite soon, and anyone who wasn’t dealing with the rigging and the sails were sharpening and polishing their weapons, just in case a fight was in the cards. Varric was manning the helm, and she was sure that Dorian and Cole were in Dorian’s quarters looking over the maps while Merrill was preparing an early supper.

She stood on the deck for a moment, feeling oddly at a loss. Then she spotted Piper standing at the bow by herself. 

Rynne made a beeline for the bow and knocked on the railing as she made her way up the stairs. “Hello!” she chirped. “I’m not bothering you, am I?”

Piper turned around with a smile. “Rynne!” she said. “It’s never a bother. How’s training?”

“Fine,” Rynne said loftily. “How was sparring with Cullen?” She wiggled her eyebrows. 

Piper laughed brightly. “Fenris told you about that, did he?” She ruffled a hand through her damp hair. “Did he tell you about my incredible trick maneuvers and my debonair swordsmanship?”

“He told me that Cullen’s face was bright red by the end,” Rynne said slyly. 

Piper chuckled. “It really was. I should try to fry an egg on those handsome cheeks of his sometime.” She ran her hand idly along the taffrail. 

Rynne tilted her head slightly. Piper’s tone was cheerful, but she was avoiding Rynne’s eyes. 

Then Piper elbowed her. “How about you? I hear your combat training is going well. Fen said you’re a fast learner, exactly as promised.” 

A memory flashed through Rynne’s mind: Fenris holding her locked against the hardness of his body, and his delicious deep voice in her ear telling her to escape his hold. Too bad for Rynne that he was so desperate to escape from _her_. 

She carefully kept her smile in place. “Hardly,” she said. “I’m trying, though. I suppose that counts for something, right?” 

“Hey, don’t sell yourself short,” Piper said seriously. “Fen can be a grumpy ass sometimes, but he doesn’t exaggerate. If he said you’re doing well, then you must be doing well.”

 _Not well enough to warrant leaving the ship, though,_ she thought with some melancholy. But she shrugged and smiled. “Maybe you and I should spar someday. Then you can see just how awful I am.”

Piper laughed and elbowed her. “It’s a deal. But honestly, give yourself a chance. I mean, imagine if I tried to stitch someone up. I’d probably end up stabbing them repeatedly with the needle and making them bleed to death.”

Rynne snorted. “That’s a poetic thought. Death by a thousand needle pokes.”

“Sounds vaguely dirty, doesn’t it?” Piper said salaciously.

“Ooh, yes,” Rynne said with relish. “I can’t decide if it’s a good-dirty or a bad-dirty, though. That probably means bad.”

“Probably,” Piper agreed. They laughed, then stood silently at the taffrail for a moment. 

Rynne glanced at Piper out of the corner of her eye. Piper looked happy enough, but she seemed more subdued than usual, and for the first time, Rynne felt a little bit awkward around her. In all fairness, though, Rynne was also feeling more melancholy than usual, so she couldn’t really blame Piper for being unusually quiet. 

She leaned her elbows on the taffrail and looked at the captain. “Piper, do you ever say things that are so stupid that thinking back on them is almost an out-of-body experience?” she said bluntly. 

Piper burst out a surprised little laugh. “It’s been known to happen. Why do you ask?” 

“Does it ever pay off?”

Piper tilted her head. “What d’you mean?”

Rynne scratched the back of her neck. “I mean… saying outrageous things and… putting yourself out there.” _Like asking a handsome broody pirate to be your lover even though you have no idea what you’re doing,_ she thought sadly. “Does it, er, pay off?”

Piper laughed again, more softly this time. “I guess I’ll find out soon enough.”

Rynne studied her thoughtfully. Piper was still smiling and still avoiding her eye, and it was giving Rynne the odd feeling of looking in a mirror. 

She narrowed her eyes suspiciously at Piper. “Are we having the same problem?” she said.

Piper shot her a little sideways look. “Maybe,” she said slowly. She tilted her head. “Fenris?”

“Yes,” Rynne admitted. “Cullen?”

The corners of Piper’s mouth quirked. “Yep.”

Rynne nodded an acknowledgement. She was suddenly desperate to talk to Piper about what happened with Fenris, but Fenris was such a private person, and Rynne was certain he would hate it if she talked about him behind his back. Besides, Piper was clearly preoccupied with man troubles of her own, but Rynne didn’t want to be nosy…

All right, that was a lie. She absolutely wanted to be nosy, but it didn’t seem right to ask. But honestly, if Rynne had to be quiet and hang onto all these feelings for one more second — 

Piper suddenly turned to face her. “Shall we go bang it out in my quarters?” she said playfully. “I think our lives would be easier if we went for each other instead.”

“Great!” Rynne exclaimed. “Go get naked, I’ll grab the rum.”

They burst into raucous laughter. Soon Rynne couldn’t catch her breath, and Maker’s balls, did it ever feel good to laugh this hard. Now that she was standing here with Piper, both of them laughing so much that some of the crew were starting to stare, she realized that she’d been remiss: she’d been so busy working with Anders and Fenris that she’d barely spent any time with the silver-haired captain of the Lady Luck. 

Piper slung her arm around Rynne’s neck. “Fuck, I really could use a drink,” she wheezed. “Too bad we’re going to be in Kirkwall by this evening. Sharp wits and all.”

Rynne nodded ruefully, then shot Piper a pleading look. “Listen, Piper, can I… can I come to Kirkwall with you when you land?”

Piper raised her eyebrows. “Fen said it wasn’t a great idea. He said you weren’t ready yet.”

 _Fenris isn’t the boss of me,_ Rynne thought mulishly, but she bit it back. It wouldn’t help her to plead her case right now. “He’s probably right,” she admitted instead. “But especially if we’re just collecting information at first, I think I could be helpful. Kirkwall is my city,” she insisted at Piper’s frown. “I could be a distraction if you need to get through Hightown. Or I could stick with Fenris and sweet-talk people into leaving him alone. Please, can I come?” 

Piper nibbled the inside of her cheek, then nodded slowly. “Let me think about it. You probably could be a useful distraction, especially if you stick with Fen or Varric. But let me think about it.” She squeezed Rynne’s shoulder. “Shall we go play cards or something in the meantime? I need to get the fuck out of my own head, honestly.”

“Yes please,” Rynne said fervently. “Same here.” 

They made their way to the captain’s quarters and spent the next couple of hours playing cards and chatting and making crass jokes. Piper allowed Rynne to braid her glorious silver hair and lent her a pile of serials called _the Randy Dowager_ — ‘for educational purposes’, Piper said — and by the time Merrill rang the dinner bell, Rynne was feeling so cheered up by Piper’s company that her melancholy had shrunk down to a manageable ache at the base of her sternum. 

Rynne sat between Dorian and Piper that night for dinner, not feeling ready to face Fenris just yet. But that didn’t stop her from feeling hurt when he didn’t even attempt to approach her as he had during other mealtimes this week. He sat instead by himself on the steps to the helm, and the careful way he avoided her eye was almost enough to make her food stick in her throat. 

Just as they were finishing their supper, Cole appeared at Piper’s shoulder. “There are flames,” he said.

Piper looked up at him. “What?” she said sharply. 

“Flames,” Cole repeated. His vacant blue eyes were fixed on a point to the northwest. “Fire flickering, frothing from the docks to the tarps. It wasn’t meant to spread; burn the lower docks, burn the evidence, burn the truth, but it burnt beyond its bounds.” 

“Speak plainly,” Fenris snapped. “Are you saying the Lowtown docks are on fire?” 

“Yes,” Cole said. 

“Shit,” Piper said blankly. She surged to her feet, followed closely by Cullen and Rylen and rest of the officers, and they crowded at the taffrail to see for themselves. 

Rynne’s heart leapt into her throat. Exactly as Cole had said, the fire was visible from here. A shiver of fear trickled through her limbs, and her tongue felt stuck to the roof of her mouth as she stared at the flames. 

In her imaginings of coming back to Kirkwall as a free woman and a pirate, she hadn’t imagined this. 

She hadn’t imagined coming back to a city on fire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, did you guys think I was going to make things easy for Fenris and Rynne? HAVE YOU MET ME? hahahahaha [cries in the corner in Tevene]
> 
> I am [Pikapeppa on Tumblr](https://pikapeppa.tumblr.com/), and our creator and genius artist is [Schoute,](https://schoute.tumblr.com/) in case you want to reach out! xo


	13. Well, Shit: Part I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay. Okay. Schoute's art this week is OFF THE FUCKING HOOK. So please forgive me because this chapter is but a smol offering in the shadow of the magnificence she's created this week.

###  PIPER 

Fenris narrowed his eyes at the burning Lowtown docks. “Half of the docks are engulfed,” he said. “It will spread soon to the residential area.”

“That will not happen. I won’t allow it,” Cullen snapped. He looked at Piper. “There’s no time to lose. Piper, how quickly can we get to Lowtown?”

“Twenty minutes,” she said. “We can row in through Darktown. It doesn’t look like it’s affected.” She turned away from the taffrail to face the crew. “All right, listen up!” she shouted. “Change of plans. We go in fighting. Try to help the residents of Lowtown; get them free from the fire. Herd them to Hightown or Darktown if you have to. Protect yourselves against the navy men, all right?” She gave her crew a severe look. “You’re my priority. I don’t want any empty bunks on the Lady Luck, all right? It throws her balance off.”

There was a murmur of laughter and assent, and Piper shot them a fierce smile before turning to Cullen and Rylen. “All right,” she said. “This is obviously your crazy admiral’s doing. What do you suggest?”

“We need to find out as much information as possible,” Cullen said. He looked absolutely furious. “If Meredith is in Lowtown, we must find and incapacitate her. I can only hope this madness will end along with her leadership.”

“Do you think she’ll be in Lowtown, sir?” Rylen asked. 

Cullen rubbed the back of his neck. He was starting to pace along the edge of the taffrail now. “A year ago, I would have said no. But now, with these erratic decisions and impulsive plans – trying to have us killed…” He shook his head. “It’s entirely possible she is in Lowtown overseeing the disaster she’s wrought.”

“All right,” Piper said. “Find Meredith, knock her the fuck out, make sure the fire doesn’t spread.” 

Cullen nodded sharply. “The city guard should be involved and helping to control the fire, but who knows how terribly things have gone awry since we’ve been gone?”

Piper frowned slightly. Cullen’s voice was hard, and his face was creased with fury. Was he angry at _her_ for delaying their return to Kirkwall?

She pushed the thought aside. There wasn’t time right now to worry about that. She turned to Dorian and Cole, who were standing nearby. “All hands on deck, boys. Are you ready for an adventure?”

Cole nodded silently, his gaze still on the Lowtown fire, and Dorian shrugged and folded his arms. “I suppose so,” he said casually. “I have been hoping for an excuse to test out that lovely pearl-inlaid bow you found for me.”

Fenris grunted. “One can only hope the bow is as functional as it is flamboyant.” 

Dorian pressed one hand to his chest in mock offense. “Why Fenris, I do believe that may have been a veiled insult at yours truly.”

Fenris scoffed and folded his arms, and Piper turned to him. “Fen, you’ll stick with me as usual–”

“I’m coming,” Rynne said. 

Everyone turned to look at her. Her fists were clenched and her face was set, and for some reason, she was glaring at Fenris.

“No,” Fenris barked. “You will remain here.” 

Piper shot him a sharp look, but before she could interject, Rynne was snapping back. “No! I can be useful, especially now that people are going to be injured.” She looked at Piper. “Please, Captain, I can come along with Anders and help treat anyone with burn injuries. There are bound to be dozens of people who need bandages and salve, and–” 

“ _No_. Absolutely not,” Fenris said more loudly. He took an angry step toward her. “You would risk your life in order to not be left out? _Kaffas,_ Hawke, that is–”

“That’s not why,” Rynne snapped. She turned to Piper, and her expression was anxious. “My brother Carver is in the navy. If there’s a fight happening on the docks, there’s no way he’s not involved. He’s such a brown-noser, he always has to be part of every big navy thing that’s–”

“Maker’s breath,” Cullen interjected. “You’re right. Carver Hawke…” He looked at Rylen. “We had no suspicions about him, did we?”

Rylen shook his head. “No, sir. He was a perfectly average sailor as far as I recall.”

Rynne laughed. “Oh, he’d hate to hear that. He absolutely hero-worships you,” she added to Cullen. “He was very disappointed that he didn’t get to go to Estwatch with–”

“What is your plan, then?” Fenris interrupted. “To run through the burning streets of Lowtown looking for your brother?"

She tilted her head. “Well, when you put it that way, it does sound rather daring…”

“This is not a joke,” Fenris shouted. Piper recoiled in surprise from his sudden fury, but he wasn’t finished. “This situation is fraught with danger. You would risk your life for what? To… to speak with your brother who will try to kill us?”

“He won’t!” Rynne yelled back. “Not if he sees that Cullen is on our side! He’ll join us instead, I know it. He’s a bit thick, but he’s not totally unreasonable. I know it’s risky to leave the ship, but I’m not ready to see my baby brother get killed for no good reason.” She lifted her chin belligerently. “Some risks are worth taking, Fenris.”

Fenris opened his mouth to retort, but Piper held up a hand. “Hey,” she barked. “That’s enough. The Captain is talking now.” She pointed at Rynne. “You’ll come with us as an assistant healer. She’s right, Fen,” she added as Fenris dragged a hand through his hair. “People in Lowtown will need medical attention, and Mythal knows the Hightown snobs aren’t going to help them.” She turned to Rynne once more, who was beaming. “Stick with Anders while we’re in the city. He can help you with the healing stuff and protect you–”

“ _I_ will guard her,” Fenris said. 

“No!” Rynne blurted.

Piper glanced at her in surprise and some confusion – since when did Rynne turn down a chance to spend time with Fenris? – then turned to Fenris once more. “If you don’t mind, that would be–”

“Piper, please,” Rynne said urgently. “I don’t want Fenris to be weighed down by me. I’ll stick with Anders–”

“No,” Fenris snapped. He was glaring at Rynne again. “I will guard you. This is a fool’s errand, and I won’t see you killed for it.”

Hawke slumped in frustration, and Piper rolled her eyes. “Shut the fuck up, both of you. Captain’s orders,” she announced. “Rynne, stay with Fenris. Fenris, stop being so cranky. All of you, go get your weapons and meet back here in ten minutes.” 

Dorian, Cole, Rylen and Varric nodded and strode away to arm themselves, and Fenris glared at Rynne. “Come. You need to be armed.” He chivvied her away, and Piper listened in exasperation as he lectured at poor Rynne. “You’ll stay at my side at all times unless I say otherwise. Do exactly as I tell you. Do _not_ go running off–”

“I know, Fenris,” Rynne said impatiently. “I’m not a complete idiot. A bit of an idiot, perhaps, but…”

They continued to bicker as they wandered out of earshot, and Piper smirked at Cullen. “I spy two people on the Lady Luck who need to fu…” She trailed off as she realized Cullen wasn’t listening. He was scowling across the water at the burning city with his arms folded tightly across his chest. 

She sidled up beside him and leaned her elbows on the taffrail. “Hey,” she said softly. “You should arm up, too. Take whatever you need from the armoury. Varric can help if you don’t find what you want.”

He nodded once and didn’t look at her. Piper studied his stern profile for a moment longer, then stepped away from the taffrail with a pang in her chest, intending to go to her quarters and collect her weapons. 

Cullen grabbed her hand before she could leave. “Piper,” he said. 

She turned back to face him. His brow was creased with concern, but his coffee-coloured eyes were warm and worried. 

He ran his thumb over the back of her hand. “I am sorry about this. I… I don’t wish to see you come to harm for the sake of a favour to me.”

Piper stepped closer to him and squeezed his hand. “I’m going to be fine,” she told him confidently. “We’re doing this, all right? No turning back now. And it’s going to be fine. We’re going to get your boss-lady kicked out of Kirkwall, and…” She floundered for a moment as the unsolved issue of Cullen’s future plans rose between them.

_Stay with me._ She swallowed the words before they could leave her lips. She wasn’t being a coward; she _wasn’t_. Now just wasn’t the time. “... and then you’ll, er, we’ll have a drink to celebrate,” she finished lamely. 

He smiled faintly, but his damned eyebrows were worried and sad. The pang in Piper’s chest was like a fist around her heart, and all of a sudden she was _sick_ of it, sick and tired of feeling sad and uncertain.

She wrapped her arms around Cullen’s neck and pressed herself against him. His face went slack with surprise, but his hands were curving around her waist as his gaze dropped to her lips –

She kissed him hard. This wasn’t like the gentle, sweet morning kisses they’d been sharing all week; the kiss Piper gave him was firm with conviction, and she pressed herself close against his body until his hands tightened on her waist.

She could feel him straightening and hardening against her thigh. An inconvenient wave of heat and longing bloomed in her belly and rolled up through her chest, and she reluctantly pulled away from his lips as the surge of longing made its way to her mouth. 

“I want you to stay,” she breathed. 

He stared wordlessly at her, panting for breath with his hands still on her body, and Piper clasped his neck. “It’s a terrible time to bring it up, I know,” she said. “But… I haven’t changed my mind. I want you to stay on the Lady Luck with me, and… and you promised you would think about it–”

“I have been,” he murmured. “Believe me, Piper, I…” He stroked her cheekbone with his thumb. “It is not my intention to be coy. Please believe that. I will tell you my answer as soon as I can, I promise.”

She swallowed. It seemed that that was the best she was going to get for now. “Okay,” she whispered. With great reluctance, she untwined her arms from around his neck, then walked away from him to fetch her weapons. 

Twenty minutes later, cloaked by the half-light of evening, the Lady Luck’s rowboats glided into the rotten Darktown docks. Ten of the crew had remained on the ship, and the rest followed Piper and Cullen now as they hurried along the crumbling alley toward Lowtown. 

They heard the yelling just moments before they felt the heat. They stepped through the alley into the threshold of Lowtown, and Piper stumbled to a halt and stared. 

“Well, shit,” Varric said.

“Fucking Maker’s balls,” Rynne breathed.

It was absolute chaos. The docks were on fire just as Fenris had said, and half of the piers were crumbling into the water along with their contents. The flames had spread forth from the docks toward some of the unlucky boats and back toward the market, and sailors and merchants and city guardsmen were frantically trying to pull up pails of water to douse the fire while simultaneously dodging the greedy flames. The darkness made the whole scene all the more ominous: the flames lit the disaster with a wicked reddish glow while casting everything else in shadow, and as Piper and the rest of the crew tried to catch their bearings, a drizzle of rain began to fall. 

Piper glanced gratefully at the sky. If it rained hard enough, it might slow the spread of the fire. 

She looked around the market again. The residents of Lowtown were running and shouting, and navy men were scattered among them. As Piper watched in horror, a navy sailor cut down a dwarven merchant who was trying to pull a crate of smouldering merchandise out of his burning stall. 

She drew her sword and bolted toward the navy man. He turned toward her as she ran at him, and his sword rose to parry her strike – 

_Clang._ He deflected the tip of her épée, but her foot was already rising to boot him in the chest. 

He grunted and stumbled back into the crumbling merchant’s stall. Before Piper could take another step forward to finish him off, Cullen was hauling him to his feet. 

“What has happened here?” he barked at the navy man. “ _Speak._ ”

“Commander Cullen?” the man gasped. “I thought – Admiral Meredith, she–”

“She told you I was dead, I assume,” Cullen snarled. “I assure you, this chaos will not stand. Perhaps if you tell me what has happened here, you will survive the night.”

The navy man cringed away from Cullen’s glare. “Y-yes sir,” he stammered. “Admiral Meredith called a raid on the docks. She said a blood lyrium operation was rooted in the market here–”

_What?_ Piper thought in confusion. Meredith was trying to oust the blood lyrium? But it wasn’t rooted in Lowtown. It was rooted in the Kirkwall Navy, because _she’d_ brought it there. It seemed that she was trying to cover her tracks. 

“Blood lyrium?” Cullen said sharply. He glanced at Piper, clearly just as suspicious as she was, then turned back to the navy man. “She called a raid on the blood lyrium?”

“Yes sir,” the navy man confirmed. “She said the entire market is corrupt and we had to set fire to everything. All the m-merchants were involved in the lyrium operation, she said. But then Admiral Aveline Vallen from Ferelden arrived with the Divine, and–”

Cullen’s jaw dropped. “I beg your–”

“You’re kidding,” Rynne blurted. “The Divine is here? In Kirkwall? Right now?” 

“Y-yes,” the navy man squeaked. “We saw Divine Cassandra and Admiral Aveline arguing with Admiral Meredith, but she’d already told us to come to the docks, so–”

“Maker’s breath,” Cullen swore. He released the terrified navy man. “Where is Meredith now? Did she remain in Hightown?”

“No sir, not in Hightown, sir,” the navy man babbled. “I saw her about… m-maybe fifteen minutes ago. She’s here in Lowtown overseeing operations, but I’m not sure–”

“Commander!” Rylen suddenly shouted. 

Cullen and Piper looked up to see a handful of navy men pelting toward them with their swords drawn. Seconds later, Piper was back-to-back with Cullen as they fought off the Navy men with Rylen and Kaaras’s assistance. 

She dodged away from a sword strike at her belly, then slid down to her knee and punched her opponent soundly in the balls with the pommel of her épée before rising once more to stab him in the gut. Behind her, she heard the grunts and cries of pain from the men that were fighting with Cullen and Rylen, and Kaaras grunted as one navy man landed a slash his hip out of sheer dumb luck, but in the space of minutes, the navy men were dead. 

She lowered her weapon and flicked her gaze over Cullen, Rylen, and Kaaras to assess for injuries. They were slightly breathless, and Kaaras was wrinkling his nose at the fine line of blood at his hip, but they looked otherwise unharmed. 

Cullen turned to their unwitting informant, who was looking terrified now. “Go to the Chantry,” he commanded. “Ask for Mother Leliana and no one else. Tell her what is happening here. Go now.”

The man saluted him and ran away. Meanwhile, Piper was facing her waiting crew. “Listen up, you sorry lot,” she yelled. “Spread out. Help the civvies and the merchants. Kill _anyone_ who tries to cut them down. Treat the navy men with suspicion, but don’t engage if you can avoid it. If you’re threatened, do what you have to.” She raised her eyebrows at Cullen. “Anything I should add?”

“Oh,” he said blankly. “Er, no, I – no. Thank you, Captain.”

She nodded, then raised her sword in the air. “Take what you can!” she yelled.

“Give nothing back!” they roared in return, and the crew of the Lady Luck scattered. 

Piper watched as Dorian, Varric, and Cole ran off together. Anders, Sera and Kaaras split off in another direction, and Piper turned to Fenris and Rynne, who were still by her side. 

Fenris was frowning at a pair of navy men as Kaaras and Sera engaged them. “Half of them are on lyrium,” he said. “I can see it in their movements. They are erratic and bold; unreasonably bold.” He looked at Cullen. “Your admiral has poisoned her own men.”

“I am well aware,” Cullen growled. He roughly rubbed the back of his neck, then scowled at the fiery scene. “This will not stand. Meredith has obviously lost her mind. We must find her right away.” 

“Perhaps we should split up, sir,” Rylen said. “We’ll cover more ground that way.”

“Yes, precisely my thoughts,” Cullen said. “I will head to the east.” He glanced askance at Piper.

“I”m with you, Golden Boy,” she said immediately. 

“Hawke and I will go with Rylen,” Fenris said. 

“Great. Thanks, Fen,” Piper said. Then she tilted her head. Fenris was gazing at her with a small frown. 

She raised her eyebrows. She’d just realized something odd: this was going to be the first time in a year that she’d gone into a battle without Fenris by her side. 

A weird feeling of homesickness twisted her belly for a second, and she scratched her ear awkwardly. “Listen, don’t get chopped up, okay? I don’t need the hassle of finding a new master-at-arms…” 

She trailed off. Fenris was still frowning at her, but his hand was outstretched as though to shake. 

She gaped at his tattooed palm for a second, then cautiously took his hand. Fenris squeezed her hand briefly – a very brisk, very firm handshake – then released her just as quickly. “Use caution, Piper,” he said flatly. “Varric does not need the hassle of redecorating the captain’s quarters if you should die.”

Piper barked out a laugh and rubbed her nose. “Fuck you too, Fen.”

He smirked – a quick, very rare hint of a smile – then turned to Rylen. “Lead the way. We will follow.” 

Rylen nodded to him, then saluted Cullen and began to trot away to the west. Fenris started to lead Rynne away, but Piper punched her arm gently before they could leave. “You be fucking careful too, all right? We still have half a stack of Randy Dowagers to go through.”

Rynne darted forward and kissed Piper’s cheek. “Don’t worry, Captain, I’ll be a good girl. I’m too young and pretty to die.”

Fenris grunted and placed a hand at the small of Rynne’s back. “Come, Hawke. We should move on.” With one last nod to Piper, he, Rylen, and Rynne ran away, leaving Cullen and Piper alone. 

Piper took a deep breath, then almost regretted it; the air was hot and smoky and distinctly unappealing. She grimaced and looked up at Cullen. “All right, Commander, shall we?”

He grasped her hand. “Piper… thank you.”

She looked up into his serious, handsome face. _You can thank me by staying on the Lady Luck,_ she thought, but this most definitely was not the time to say so.

She squeezed his fingers, then released his hand and nodded sharply. “Come on, Golden Boy. We’ve got an insane admiral to find.”

###  FENRIS 

Fenris moved through the burning market with Hawke and Rylen. Half of his attention was on the flaming mayhem of the market, and the rest was on Hawke, whom he was strategically keeping tucked between himself and Rylen.

She shouldn’t be here. Even armed with two daggers and all the training Fenris could give her in a space of a short week, Hawke was far too vulnerable, and her vulnerability was going to make her more of a hindrance than a help. When they returned to the Lady Luck after this ill-advised debacle, he would be having words in private with Piper about this. 

“So, my dear lieutenant,” Hawke said breezily to Rylen as they stepped carefully around a smouldering stack of fruit crates. “Are you enjoying the return home so far? The weather’s a little warm for this time of year, but I suppose one takes what one can get.” She chuckled.

Fenris shot her a quick glare. She was making jokes at a time like this? Was she not seeing how dire the situation was?

Rylen, in contrast, gave her a quick distracted smile as his eyes darted sharply around the market. “It is rather warmer than expected, Lady Rynne.”

She tutted and patted Rylen’s arm. “Now now, lieutenant, just because we’re in Kirkwall doesn’t mean we have to go back to using fancy fucking manners.”

Rylen smiled at her. “In that case, Hawke, I insist that you call me Rylen. I think a stroll through a burning city quarter qualifies us for a touch more familiarity.”

“Ooh. _Familiarity,_ you say?” Hawke snickered dirtily. “That’s rather bold of you. I like it.”

“Up ahead,” Fenris snapped. He pulled his scimitar from its sheath. 

Rylen and Hawke looked up. A trio of navy men were advancing on a terrified-looking elven couple who were holding an empty wooden pail each. 

Fenris glanced at Rylen, who nodded briskly. Together with Hawke, they ran toward the navy men. Fenris swung his scimitar in a swift upward arc at the closest man, laying his belly wide from his right hip to his left ribs, then clashed swords with the second man while Rylen engaged the third. 

Just as Fenris had instructed her, Hawke stood just to the side in Fenris’s line of sight, her gaze darting around the surrounding area for advancing threats. “Rylen, your four o’clock,” she yelled. 

Rylen looked up. He spun and slammed his sword up just in time to deflect an overhead strike from yet another navy sailor, leaving his back vulnerable to his original opponent. 

Fenris viciously kicked Rylen’s first opponent in the side of his knee, dropping him to his knees with a cry of pain, then spun back to engage his other foe as Rylen fought off the new attacker. Thankfully, no further foes approached, and soon Fenris and Rylen were standing over the bloodied bodies of the four navy men. 

Hawke studied the dead men for a moment, then looked at Fenris. “That went well, right?” she said. 

He nodded once. “We are alive, so yes. Your warning was helpful,” he added grudgingly. 

She smiled. “Oh good. Not useless, then,” she said. She delicately placed one hand over her mouth. As Fenris watched in bemusement, she turned away from him, then promptly vomited. 

He sighed quietly, then stepped over the navy men’s bodies to approach her. “Hawke–”

“Don’t lecture me, all right?” she interrupted. She wiped her mouth with one shaking hand. “I know what you’re going to say. It’s my own fault I’m here.” Without looking at him, she turned to the elven couple who were cowering on the rain- and blood-drenched ground. 

She crouched beside them and reached for the elven woman’s hands. “Let me wrap those burns for you,” she said gently. “Then you can carry your buckets, at least.” 

The elven woman tentatively held out her trembling hands, and Hawke looked up at Fenris. “Can you grab me some seawater? Just a small amount to rinse her hands.”

He silently did as she’d asked, using one of the couple’s pails to bring her some water. Rylen was nearby, crouched beside another dying navy man who’d been crushed by a crumbling pillar, and Fenris kept guard while Hawke tended to the couple’s minor wounds. 

A few minutes later, she helped the couple to their feet. “Run along now, and be careful,” she urged them. “Grilled elf is not one of the delicacies that Kirkwall needs to be known for.” 

The elven woman smiled uncertainly, and her husband squeezed Hawke’s arm in thanks before taking his wife’s freshly bandaged hand and running away. Hawke looked up at Fenris. “Ready?” she said.

He nodded silently, nonplussed and admittedly impressed by her composure. A moment later, Rylen joined them. “Poor soul didn’t know where Meredith is,” he reported with a glance at the now-dead crushed sailor. “But this Fereldan Admiral, Aveline Vallen, is somewhere in Lowtown as well. She’s also trying to track Meredith down.”

“Good,” Fenris said brusquely. “Let’s move on.”

Hawke nodded, and they continued on their winding westward path. After a few awkward seconds of silence, Fenris spoke. “I was not going to lecture you.”

She shot him a tiny smirk. “You sure? I swear I could see the scolding on those obscenely handsome lips of yours.” She adopted a mocking, low-pitched voice. “‘You asked to come along, Hawke. It’s your own fault you’re barfing at the sight of a dead body.’ I mean, I enjoy that lovely voice of yours no matter what you say, but–”

“This violence is sickening,” Fenris interrupted.

Hawke looked up at him with wide eyes, and he pressed on. “It is common, but that does not mean it is easy. Not to inflict, nor to witness.” He glanced at her briefly before scanning their disastrous surroundings once more. “It doesn’t surprise me that it makes you ill. _That_ is what I was going to say.”

She dropped her gaze, and they continued in silence for another moment.

“I’m an asshole,” Hawke suddenly said. 

Fenris scoffed at her blunt remark, and she gave him a tiny smile. “No, really. I’m sorry, Fenris. I just assumed…”

He shook his head. “Your apology is unnecessary. I will admit I have been… short with you.”

“I didn’t want you to have to babysit me,” she said. “My life shouldn’t be your responsibility.” 

He shot her a sharp look, irritated by her non-sequitur. “I am not your slave,” he said quietly. “That is not how I see this.”

“Then why are you forcing yourself to guard me?” she said. “Honestly, I could have gone with Anders. You didn’t have to do this. You probably don’t even want to be around me after the, um… after…”

Her pale but pretty face was twisting with discomfort, and he swallowed hard. An image of Hawke’s arching body was intruding in his mind, followed by a less heated but equally dangerous memory of her cozily resting her head on his shoulder on Rialto’s beach. 

He pressed his lips together and didn’t answer. Thankfully, or perhaps not, Rylen’s brisk voice cut the awkwardness. “Enemies ahead, two o’clock.” 

Fenris looked: two navy men were emerging from an alley with their bloodied swords drawn. But Hawke pointed in the opposite direction. “More men over there, too.” 

Fenris curled his lip in disgust. Three more men were running toward them from the direction that she’d indicated.

They were outnumbered. Fenris looked at Rylen. “You take the two,” he commanded. “Hawke and I will take the others.” 

Rylen nodded, and they pelted away in opposite directions. As Fenris and Hawke approached their three running enemies, however, Fenris realized that only one of them was navy, and he was ushering the other two to run away. 

“Go to, er… go to Darktown, I suppose,” the navy man yelled to the two civilians. “Get away from the fire.” Then he caught sight of Fenris, and his eyes widened before narrowing suspiciously. 

“Stop, pirate,” he yelled, and he rushed at Fenris with his sword in both hands. 

Fenris snarled silently and raised his scimitar, but beside him, Hawke gasped. “Carv!” she squealed.

_What?_ Fenris thought. Less than a second later, his scimitar slammed against the navy man’s sword. 

Fenris braced his palm on the flat of his blade, then shoved the navy man back. In the nebulous shadow-light of the nighttime flames, Fenris had a split second to take in the man’s features: dark hair, scowling eyebrows, and a nose that was strikingly similar to that of the woman beside him– 

Carver Hawke rushed him again, and Fenris swiftly deflected his advances, but his irritation grew with every strong strike that Hawke’s brother sent reverberating through his palms. 

“Carver, stop!” Hawke screamed. “Stop it, you lummox!” 

Carver glanced at her briefly. His face went slack with shock, and Fenris took advantage of his distraction to deliver a swift roundhouse kick to Carver’s chest. 

Carver grunted and stumbled back, then fell flat on his ass. To his credit, he kept a hold of his weapon and he was trying to rise to his feet before he’d even caught his breath, and Fenris crouched in a defensive stance with his scimitar in both hands, ready to defend himself again. Before Carver could do more than rise to his feet, however, Hawke was standing between them – standing in front of Fenris, specifically, as though to shield him from her brother. 

She held out one hand to Carver. “Carv, it’s me! It’s Rynne. Relax, all right? We’re not going to hurt you.”

“Hurt _me_?” he rasped. He was clutching his ribs and glaring at Fenris. “What in the Maker’s – where have you – what happened to your bloody _hair?_ ” 

Her posture relaxed, and she laughed. “Of course that’s what you’d ask about. Now listen, you need to join us. We’re–”

“Where have you been?” Carver yelled. He strode toward her and grabbed her arms. “People thought you were dead! We thought – Mother’s been worried sick! It’s all they’re talking about in Hightown!” 

Hawke laughed again, but it sounded rather flat. “Ah yes, the precious gossip circuit. Shockingly enough, I haven’t missed it since I ran away.”

“You ran…? Of course you did. I knew you just ran away. I _knew_ it,” Carver shouted. His face was turning red with fury. “That’s so typical of you. It’s so bloody selfish. Mother thought you might have been kidnapped, but I knew you’d just run away!”

Hawke took a step back from her brother and closer to Fenris. “Look, it’s been fun catching up, but in case you didn’t notice, the city is on fucking fire,” she said pleasantly. “Can we finish this fight later, perhaps? Maybe after we’ve stopped your crazy admiral from burning Kirkwall to the ground?” 

“I – wha –” Carver seemed to struggle for a moment, then he blew out a sharp breath and straightened. “I’m under orders to keep this fire going,” he told Rynne sternly. “This blood lyrium ring–”

“It’s a fucking lie, Carver,” Hawke said loudly. “Meredith is behind the blood lyrium ring. She’s trying to cover her tracks. She set Cullen up and tried to have him killed because he figured her out.”

Carver’s face cleared instantly. “Cullen? What do you – he’s dead. Meredith said he died.”

“No,” Hawke said patiently. “He’s alive, and he’s in the city now. Captain Piper Lavellan saved him from your admiral’s bullshit.”

“Mad Piper?” Carver blurted. “But she’s a wanted pirate. And you,” he said accusingly to Fenris. “You’re Fenris. The Ghost of Mad Piper. You…” He looked at Hawke again with wide eyes. “You’ve fallen in with _pirates?_ ” 

Hawke burst out laughing and elbowed Fenris playfully. “And finally he catches on. Took him long enough, didn’t it?”

Fenris sneered in silence at Carver, thoroughly unamused by the situation, and Hawke turned back to her brother. “Look, Carv, here’s the deal. Piper’s crew are helping Cullen to take Admiral Meredith down. She’s fucking corrupt, can’t you see? Setting the entire Lowtown docks on fire? It’s insane.”

Carver still looked shocked, but a hint of uncertainty was crossing his face, and Hawke took an eager step toward him. “You know this isn’t right. You were helping those people to get away from the fire. Join us,” she urged. 

Carver looked at her sharply. “I’m not becoming a _pirate_ ,” he spat. “Are you mad?”

Hawke wilted in exasperation. “I just mean to help us stop Meredith. Help _Cullen_. He needs all the support he can get.”

Carver rubbed his jaw and didn’t reply. Then Rylen ran over to join them. “Fenris. Hawke,” he panted.

Carver straightened again. “Lieutenant Rylen!” he exclaimed. “What – we thought you – Meredith said you died a traitor!”

Rylen smiled ruefully and wiped some blood from a gash on his left wrist. “Not dead, and not a traitor.” He raised his eyebrows at Carver. “Commander Cullen could use another good man on his side.”

Carver blinked. “I – of course. Yes, sir.” He saluted Rylen swiftly. 

Hawke tutted loudly. “Fucking fantastic. Good to know where I stand.” She punched her brother in the arm.

He glowered at her, but Rylen spoke before he could retort. “I should go help the Commander, in fact,” he told Fenris and Hawke. “Carver knows what the Admiral looks like; he can take over the search from here.” He looked at Carver. “Unless you already know where the Admiral is?”

Carver grimaced. “Er, no sir,” he said. “I was told to focus on this section of the docks. I haven’t seen her since the orders were given this morning.”

“Shame,” Rylen said briskly. “Keep a sharp eye. She must be stopped.” He saluted Carver, then nodded to Fenris and Rynne before bolting away to the east. 

Fenris and Carver eyed each other uneasily. Then Hawke laughed and linked her arms with theirs. “All right, gentlemen, let’s get this show on the road, shall we?” 

Carver wiggled away from her. “Quit it. This is serious.” He jerked his head in the direction he’d come. “This way. I was working my way along the docks in this direction. I hadn’t gotten much farther.” He began to trot away to an alley that headed to the northeast.

Hawke sighed, then looked up at Fenris. “See? I told you I’d gotten all the charm genes in the family.”

Fenris grunted. From what he’d seen, she didn’t seem wrong about that. 

He jerked his chin at her brother’s back. “Let’s move on. I remain at your side.” 

She smiled faintly and squeezed his arm, and they followed in Carver’s wake. Unfortunately, it wasn’t long before they came upon another chaotic scene: what looked like two families’ worth of elves and humans cowering in a corner as Dorian, Cole and Varric tried to protect them from eleven – no, a square dozen – frenzied-looking navy men. 

Dorian and Varric were valiantly holding the men off with arrows and bolts, and Cole was doing his usual unnerving trick of darting apparently unseen through the incoming men and harrying them with his two daggers. But the navy men were advancing, and Dorian and Varric’s favoured weapons wouldn’t be useful anymore once the navy men came within range of close combat. 

“Oh fuck,” Hawke gasped. “Fenris–”

“Friends of yours?” Carver asked. 

“Yes,” she said urgently. She pointed. “Varric, the handsome archer, and the strange blond boy – they’re with us. Don’t–”

“I won’t, all right?” Carver snapped. “Maker’s sake, I’m not a complete idiot.” He ran toward his ersatz comrades.

Hawke snorted. “I’ll believe it when I see it,” she muttered, but her eyes were wide and scared, and Fenris studied her with a churning gut. This was a terribly fraught situation, but he’d seen worse. If Hawke wasn’t here, he would barely be more than annoyed by the odds. But with Hawke here, so vulnerable and lovely and fucking untrained... 

He took her arm. “Stay with the families,” he commanded. “Assist them if they need medical attention. Dorian and Varric will keep you safe. We will hold the men back.”

“Ten men?” she said faintly. “You three will hold back ten men?”

“Twelve men,” Fenris corrected absently. “And we five, including Varric and Dorian.”

She laughed. “Oh, all right. That makes it much better.”

He squeezed her arm a bit more firmly. “You have been admirably calm so far,” he told her. “Remain calm. I will keep you safe.” 

She took a deep breath, then nodded. Her wide copper eyes were on his face. “All right. All right, I…” She swallowed hard, then to his surprise, she reached up and stroked his cheek. 

He froze for an instant, stunned by her gentle fingers on his face. Then she stepped away. “Remember what Piper said. Don’t get chopped up,” she said, and she darted away toward Varric and Dorian and the families they were defending. 

Fenris dragged in a breath, then turned toward the frothing mass of navy men. He watched as Varric sent a trio of bolts into one man’s chest, then ran forward and grabbed the man Varric had shot, shoving him into three more of his comrades to throw them off balance before lunging into the fight with his scimitar drawn. 

The navy men were high on lyrium; that much was clear. They were careless and sloppy but less sensitive to pain, which made things both easier and more difficult: their wild attacks were simple enough to anticipate but required more strength to deflect, and merely injuring them wasn’t enough to put them out of the fight. By the time Fenris had felled three men, he was needing to strategically step out of the fray to catch his breath before flinging himself back into the fight.

He glanced at his allies as he parried the zealous strikes from yet another foe. Four more of the navy men were dead in addition to the three Fenris had killed, and Cole and Carver were back-to-back fighting three more. While Fenris watched, one of Dorian’s arrows punched straight through a navy sailor’s eye.

_Good,_ Fenris thought as he sliced his enemy’s thigh straight through to the bone. Then he heard a shriek. 

It was a child’s scream: one of the children that Hawke was sitting with. Fenris shoved his foe away and whipped around, his hyper-alert gaze swinging from the fight to the families – 

Three more navy men had fallen upon the helpless Lowtown families. Dorian and Varric were holding two of them off with daggers, but the third was advancing with his sword in hand and a manic sort of grimace on his face. 

Then Hawke burst out of the crowd of scared Lowtown refugees and leapt onto the navy man’s back.

Fenris’s heart jammed itself in his throat. Then he was running, his feet carrying him toward her as fast as his tired muscles could go, but he still seemed to be moving in slow motion because he could see everything that was happening, even as he tried to run faster to prevent it. 

Hawke’s arms were tight around the navy man’s neck, and he was twisting wildly as though to throw her off. Then her dagger was in her hand – the wicked Antivan silverite dagger Fenris had selected for her – and she slammed the dagger into the man’s neck, exactly as Fenris had taught her to do. 

The man stumbled and fell against a brick wall, slamming Hawke against it in the process. They both fell to the ground, and the dagger dropped from Hawke’s boneless fingers. 

Fenris stopped breathing. Then someone grabbed his arm: one of the navy men from the first batch of foes. 

Without even thinking, Fenris deftly twisted his arm and flipped the man head-over-heels to slam flat on his back on the rain-slicked paving stones. The navy man grunted as his breath left him, then made no further sounds when Fenris’s booted foot slammed down onto his throat.

Fenris didn’t bother to wait until his foe was dead. Hawke was stirring fitfully, trying to lift herself to her elbows, and the man she’d stabbed was spurting blood from the wound at his neck but still fucking _moving_ , his big blunt fingers reaching clumsily for Hawke’s abandoned dagger. 

Fenris was running again, but he was moving too slowly. The man had a grip on the back of Hawke’s shirt, and he was kneeling on her back, and Fenris’s thoughts were a panicked mess: _venhedis no he’s so much larger than her he’ll crush her no_ – 

The dagger was in the bleeding sailor’s hand. Hawke was struggling beneath him. The dagger was moving down – 

Fenris dove at them and tackled Hawke’s assailant, tearing him off of Hawke’s back. They rolled painfully on the ground, but Fenris swiftly found his bearings. He wrenched Hawke’s dagger from the sailor’s hand, then stabbed him viciously in the eye.

Twice. Three times. Five times in the eye, then twice more in the neck for good measure. When the man’s head and neck were a mess of blood and torn skin, Fenris dropped the dagger and crawled over to Hawke’s side. 

She was curled in a fetal position on the stones. A handful of the Lowtown refugees were huddled around her, but they moved away as Fenris approached. 

“Hawke,” he rasped. Then his heart rate ratcheted up as he really looked at her. 

The left side of her face and neck were covered in blood. Panicked and breathless, Fenris grasped her shoulders and pulled her upright, then realized that her eyes were open. 

She was alive. She was awake and staring at him. A brief rush of relief rendered him lightheaded for a moment, but the fear returned as he realized he didn’t know where she was bleeding from. More roughly than was probably comfortable, he tilted her head to look at her bloodied neck – _no wounds, thank the Maker –_ then started running his fingers over her bloodied face. 

“Does it hurt?” he asked roughly. _Kaffas_ , the blood was still leaking down the side of her face in fresh rivulets, and he couldn’t figure out where it was coming from.

“I stabbed him,” she said. 

Fenris looked at her. Her eyes were huge and haunted in the pallor of her face. “I stabbed him,” she said faintly. “Shit. Fuck. Is he dead?”

Fenris continued gingerly feeling the side of her face. “Yes. He is dead,” he confirmed. “You did well, Hawke. You…” _You shouldn’t have had to do that,_ he thought with a surge of rage at himself. He was supposed to protect her. This shouldn’t have happened. 

“I killed him?” she said faintly. “Oh Maker. That’s…” She broke off and pressed one trembling hand to her chest. “That’s… does that mean I fit in now?”

Fenris met her eyes once more. She was smiling, but her gaze was distinctly vacant, and a fresh rush of panic filled his chest. She was close to going into shock.

“Fenris, I stabbed someone,” she told him conversationally. “Are you proud of me?”

He stared at her. This heavy feeling roiling in his gut and squeezing his heart wasn’t exactly what he would describe as _pride_. 

He cradled the uninjured side of her face in his palm. “Yes. You did well,” he said. “Hawke, you have been injured. Does your face hurt?” 

“Injured?” she said dumbly. “Uh… no. But… I suppose my head hurts a bit.”

His eyes darted to the left side of her head. Her hair was wet, and Fenris had thought it was from the rain, but now that she’d mentioned it, it was likely blood. 

He reached out to try and brush the hair out of the way so he could see, and she flinched. “Don’t,” she blurted. “It’s – it‘s tender.”

_Her mother’s nails on her scalp._ Suddenly he remembered why she was shying away, and the memory was like a vice gripping his heart. 

He pulled his hand back. “There’s a cut on your head. It needs to be examined,” he said gruffly.

“Maybe later,” she said. “Where’s–”

“Rynne!” Carver and Varric hurried over the join then, and Carver fell to his knees beside her and grabbed her arm. “Maker’s mercy, what in the Void – are you – is that blood?”

She squeezed his arm. “Carv!” she said brightly. “Shit, look at you. You’ve got quite the shiner.”

Carver did indeed have a black eye, but he shook his head impatiently. “It’s fine, but you’re not,” he said. “You need to come home and get your head looked at.”

Fenris tensed at the suggestion that she return to Hightown, but before he could speak, Anders appeared beside them. “Move over,” he said sharply to Carver. “I’m a doctor.” He pushed Carver aside and gently grasped Hawke’s shoulder. “Hawke,” he murmured. “Look at me.”

Hawke smiled. “Anders!” she said warmly. “I stabbed someone.”

“You did?” Carver blurted.

Anders darted a startled look at Fenris, then turned back to Hawke with a smile. “Well done you,” he said. He reached for the left side of her head. “Now let me have a look here–”

She shirked away from his hand. “No!” she squeaked. “N-no, I don’t – just give me a cloth to mop up the blood, it’ll be fine.”

Anders frowned, but he pulled a clean rag from the leather pouch around his waist. He placed it in Hawke’s hand, and she lifted it to her hair and pressed it against her head with a hiss of pain. 

Anders frowned a bit more deeply, then settled back on his heels and looked at Fenris. “There are more navy men out there. They seem to be making their way east along the docks. If they’re going to catch up to this crazy Meredith woman, you should probably stop them from getting there.” 

He shook his head. “I will stay with Hawke.”

“ _I’ll_ stay with Hawke,” Anders retorted. “She’s injured, and I’m qualified to look after her. You’re not.”

Fenris glared at him, and Hawke chuckled. “Boys, boys, I know I’m bloody gorgeous…” She stopped, then laughed again. “Bloody gorgeous, get it? Oh dear, this is an awful lot of blood.” 

Anders patted her shoulder and glared at Fenris. “I’ll do my job here. Why don’t you go kill some more people and do yours?”

“ _Vishante kaffas,_ ” Fenris snarled. “You smug, supercilious–”

“Okay, all right,” Varric said in loud cheerful voice. “Let’s go fight some navy guys, huh?” He gave Fenris a wheedling look. “Come on, elf. Dorian and Cole are already out there. I’ve got a dozen bolts left. Kill count competition?” 

“No,” Fenris said loudly. “I remain with Hawke. Captain’s orders,” he added shrewdly. Piper had told him and Hawke to stay together, after all. 

Varric shook his head. “Hopeless,” he muttered, then he patted Carver on the shoulder. “Come on, Junior. You can help me and the fellas take out your lyrium-loving buddies.”

Carver gave Hawke one last worried look, then wrinkled his nose at Varric as he rose to his feet. “Stop calling me Junior,” he complained. “You make me sound like a child.”

Varric chuckled. “No problem, kid. Now, which way…”

They made their way out of the alley to join Cole and Dorian, and Anders and Fenris scowled at each other. Then Hawke spoke up. “Well, this is cozy,” she chirped. “What do we do now?”

“We wait here until you’re feeling strong enough to move,” Anders said. 

Fenris nodded; he could agree with that much. Before any of them could say anything else, a loud yell came from the opposite end of the alley than Varric had gone. 

“Pirates!” the voice yelled. “Kill them!”

It was three more navy men. Anders sighed. “Never a moment’s peace,” he muttered. He drew his short sword and glanced at Fenris. “Ready?”

“Yes,” Fenris grunted. He rose to his feet and readied his scimitar, then crouched defensively in front of Hawke. No matter what Anders wanted to imply, Fenris wasn’t an indiscriminate killer, and he took no joy in this. 

But he would spill as much blood as was necessary to make sure no more of Hawke’s was shed tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part II will come out on Friday evening (EST) as usual! I JUST GOT EXCITED OKAY, THE ART HAS ME FEELING TOO MANY FEELS 
> 
> I am [Pikapeppa on Tumblr,](https://pikapeppa.tumblr.com/) and our ABSOLUTE QUEEN OF ART is [Schoute!](https://schoute.tumblr.com/)


	14. Well, Shit: Part II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge, enormous, heartfelt and tearful THANK YOU to @stella-minerva on Tumblr, who did some GORGEOUS pirate AU art for Schoute and I: an adorable drawing of [Piper and Cullen (with Cullen in a powdered wig!!! XD)](https://pikapeppa.tumblr.com/post/187027595536/stella-minerva-so-ive-been-reading-schoute-and) and a soft and beautiful portrait of [Rynne and Fenris,](https://pikapeppa.tumblr.com/post/187211188611/stella-minerva-its-been-in-my-drafts-for-a-week) which I instantly made my phone lock screen. THANK YOU SO MUCH - YOU HONOUR US WITH YOUR TALENT. xoxoxoxo

###  PIPER 

Piper and Cullen made their way through the winding alleys of Lowtown. They stuck to the shadows as much as possible to keep their attacks silent and stealthy, and Cullen’s face was a picture of angry focus as they cut down the navy men who were attacking civilians and questioned the ones who were trying to help. By the time they reached the grand stairs that led up to Hightown, Piper and Cullen both were sweaty and spattered with blood.

There was a crowd of muttering Hightown residents were standing at the stone wall that overlooked Lowtown, and Piper sneered at them. “Gawkers,” she remarked to Cullen. “They’re not even going to do anything to help, are they?”

He grimaced, but before he could reply, a loud and authoritative voice called out to them. “Halt! Piper Lavellan, you’re under arrest!” 

Piper drew back in surprise. A stern-looking redheaded woman in a Kirkwall Navy uniform was striding toward them. 

Piper skipped back out of the woman’s reach and drew her épée. “It’s Captain. _Captain_ Piper Lavellan,” she corrected. “If I may ask, who the fuck are you?”

The woman scowled more deeply, but Cullen stepped between them with his hands upraised. “Admiral Aveline Vallen, I presume?” he said.

The woman’s frown lessened slightly. “Yes. Are you an accomplice to this wanted criminal?”

“I am Commander Cullen Rutherford of the Kirkwall Navy,” he said firmly, and Aveline’s eyebrows jumped up as Cullen went on. “I was falsely accused of treason by Admiral Meredith Stannard. She attempted to have me and my lieutenant murdered on the island of Estwatch. Piper Lavellan is a key witness to the murder attempts, and as such, it is in the interest of the Kirkwall Navy to _not_ arrest or sentence her to death as the current legislation would entail.”

Piper stared at him, unabashedly impressed by how quickly he’d seemed to pull that excuse out of his ass. She looked at Aveline and jerked a thumb at Cullen. “What he said,” she remarked.

Aveline frowned at her, then looked at Cullen once more and folded her arms. “I need proof that you are who you say you are. What–”

“I can tell you the names of every man under Meredith’s command,” Cullen snapped impatiently. “I can recite the patrol roster for the week before my attempted murder, and I can tell you that the upper left leg of the desk in your office at the navy headquarters is slightly and maddeningly shorter than the others. Is that sufficient to move on to more pressing matters? Or do you need further proof while Lowtown is burning?”

_Snap, Golden Boy,_ Piper thought in admiration. Was it inappropriate that his bossiness was making her want to jump him? Probably, given the entire, er, situation at hand. 

Aveline’s eyebrows rose, and she unfolded her arms. “Fair enough,” she admitted. “Admiral Meredith did indeed say you were dead. Executed for treason on Estwatch. My transfer from the Fereldan Navy was requested by Divine Cassandra herself.” She eyed him appraisingly. “Mother Leliana speaks highly of you, and her judgment is highly regarded even in Ferelden. I have to say, I was surprised to hear of the treason charge.”

Cullen lowered his hands and rested his palm on the pommel of his sword. “Your surprise is warranted. There was no treason charge. It was attempted murder, plain and simple.” He frowned. “We’ve heard the broad strokes of what’s happening here. Do you know where Meredith is?”

“She’s somewhere in this direction,” Aveline confirmed, with a gesture to the east. “Unfortunately, I’m not sure exactly where. The number of men who are loyal to the navy are sadly few compared to those that are under Meredith’s personal command.”

Cullen grunted. “Unfortunately, that doesn’t surprise me. Piper and I would continue the search for her, with your leave.”

Aveline looked curiously at Piper. “This pirate is assisting your search?”

“Yes, ‘this pirate’ is,” Piper interjected. “And so is the rest of my crew. There are thirty-four of us in total in Lowtown.” She shifted her weight to one hip and tilted her head. “Given your lack of, er, loyal men,” she said delicately, “maybe my crew and I can get a free pass until this crazy-Meredith business is over.” She gave Aveline an expectant look.

Cullen raised his eyebrows at Aveline. Aveline frowned, then finally nodded. “All right, yes. But only until these matters are sorted,” she added sternly. “You have past crimes to answer for, Piper Lavellan.”

“ _Captain_ Piper Lavellan,” Piper muttered resentfully. But Cullen was bowing to Aveline and shifting away, and Piper didn’t want to spoil the goodwill he seemed to have fostered. 

They continued on their path to the west, and Piper elbowed Cullen gently. “She seems like a fun sort of girl.”

Cullen shot her a gently chiding look. “She has a very good reputation in Ferelden,” he said. “She’s known as being very just and law-abiding.”

Piper hummed noncommittally. _Law-abiding_ wasn’t exactly her key criterion for whether someone was a good person or not.

Cullen reached out and squeezed her hand. “I know what you’re thinking,” he said softly. “In Aveline’s case, I have heard that her law-abiding nature does coincide with moral integrity.”

Piper shrugged. “We’ll see,” she said. 

Cullen smiled faintly at her, and they continued their path through Lowtown. A minute later, however, she saw something suspicious. 

It was the Halla’s Head. The elven tavern was one of the few buildings left untouched by the fire, but unlike every other untouched building in Lowtown, its doors and windows were closed. 

Piper frowned and pointed at the Halla’s Head. “That’s strange. Every other building is open, probably for the refugees to hide from the fire.”

“You’re right,” Cullen said. He narrowed his eyes. “I wonder if–”

“Commander.” Rylen skidded up beside them. “Any news?

Cullen nodded absently to him. “Lieutenant. Not yet, unfortunately, but this tavern warrants investigation.” He frowned at Rylen. “What happened to Lady Rynne and Fenris?”

“They found Junior Lieutenant Carver,” Rylen said. “They’re continuing the search in the west.”

Piper huffed and eyed the Halla’s Head suspiciously. “I think the search is about to end. This seems really suspicious to me.”

Cullen exhaled sharply, then nodded. “I’m inclined to agree. Let’s go.”

The three of them ran toward the Halla’s Head, then paused by the closed doors. Piper sidled up to the nearest window and tried to peer through the cracks in the wooden shutter. 

There was light inside, and if Piper listened carefully, she could hear a voice – at least one, maybe more. She turned to Cullen and Rylen. “I hear a woman in there. I can’t tell if she’s alone.”

Rylen and Cullen exchanged frowns, then Cullen looked at her again. “If it is Meredith, she won’t be pleased to see us. Any of us,” he added. “We need to be cautious. Allow me to do the talking.”

Piper waved graciously at him. “If it were up to me, I wouldn’t bother with words when we’ve got swords, but you’re the boss. For now.” She tried for a mischievous smile to cheer him up.

He shot her a tiny smile, but his frown quickly returned. He squared his shoulders and quietly pushed open the door to the Halla’s Head. 

Rylen and Piper followed him inside, and Piper’s eyes darted around the room. The tavern was lit only by a few oil lanterns on the bar and the tables, and in the front left corner of the tavern, the furniture had been pushed aside to accommodate a stack of five wooden barrels. Pacing near the barrels was a handsome blonde woman with a very stern face. She was muttering to herself, and she didn't seem to have realized that they were there. 

Cullen took a cautious step toward her. “Admiral Meredith,” he said.

Her head jerked up, and her eyes went wide with shock. “Commander,” she barked. “What is the meaning of this?” Her eyes darted manically to Rylen and then to Piper, and her jaw dropped.

“A conspiracy,” she hissed. She pointed accusingly at Piper. “I knew there was a conspiracy. This is the proof. The Divine must accept my word for this!”

Piper wrinkled her nose. What the fuck was this woman on about?

“Piracy has brought our city to ruin,” Meredith announced. She was glaring viciously at Piper as she spoke. “Their kind are cockroaches, coming in droves and bringing disease and corruption to Kirkwall!” 

Piper raised one eyebrow. “But _you_ brought the lyrium here,” she said slowly, as though to a stupid child.

“Silence!” Meredith shouted. “Commander, arrest her!”

“No,” Cullen snapped. Meredith whipped around to stare at him, but Cullen squared his shoulders. “I followed your word before, but this has gone too far. This is not what the navy stands for.” He took a step toward her. “Admiral, I relieve you of your command. Step down now.”

Meredith swelled with fury. “My own second-in-command falls prey to the influence of piracy,” she announced. She glared at Rylen. “As have you. But I don’t need you – any of you. I will protect this city myself!” She strode over to the bar and picked up an oil lantern, then returned to the barrels and held the lantern over them. 

“Wait,” Piper blurted. Now that she was looking at the barrels properly, their make and size was ominously familiar. She’d seen barrels like this multiple times over the past year or so – always on Tevinter ships that she and the crew had raided. 

“Wait a second,” she protested. “What’s in those barrels?”

“As if you don’t know!” Meredith yelled. “Your kind have brought it in all along, smuggling it through the docks and spreading it among us, but no more!”

“Fen’Harel’s fucking cock,” Piper breathed. “It’s blood lyrium, isn’t it?” 

“You know exactly what it is. You are part of the conspiracy!” Meredith shouted.

_Fuck._ A bolt of fear curdled in Piper’s belly. Fenris had told her that even properly processed lyrium was a volatile substance. If it wasn’t melted down using the proper protocol… 

She grabbed Cullen’s arm. “Cullen, she can’t light those barrels on fire,” she said urgently. “It won’t just go up in flames. It’ll explode.”

Cullen’s eyes went as round as saucers, but before he could reply, Meredith lifted the lantern higher overhead. “Silence!” she shrieked. She looked absolutely beside herself now. “You simply wish to spare the blood lyrium for your own use!”

Cullen gently pried Piper’s fingers from his arm and took a tiny step toward Meredith. “Admiral. Please. Be reasonable,” he said in an even voice. “We must keep the evidence intact. If it is truly your wish to see justice in Kirkwall, you must preserve the evidence.”

“I see exactly what you’re doing, Commander,” Meredith snarled. “You’re trying to trick me out of my victory over these vile pirates.”

“I assure you, I am not,” Cullen said. He shot Piper an apologetic glance, then turned back to Meredith. “Captain Piper is here to stand trial for the crime of smuggling,” he said. “You need the evidence intact to convict her.”

Meredith’s eyes darted to Piper. Piper lifted her hands benignly. “Guilty,” she fibbed. “Well, once you convict me, that is.”

For a breathless second, Meredith hesitated. Then Piper noticed the steadily growing sound of footsteps just outside of the Halla’s Head. 

And then two things happened at once. 

A handful of navy men burst into the tavern – manic-looking navy men who immediately threw themselves at Cullen and Rylen. And Meredith spun toward the barrels of lyrium and raised the lantern overhead. 

Piper didn’t stop to think. She bolted toward Meredith while unsheathing her épée, and just before Meredith could smash the oil lantern over the barrels of lyrium, Piper grabbed the admiral’s arm and shoved her away from the barrels. 

The lantern flew out of Meredith’s hands and shattered behind the bar, and Meredith spun toward Piper. “How dare you!” she bellowed. She pulled her sword from her sheath and ran at Piper.

Piper swiftly dodged her lunge and flicked her sword in a quick strike along Meredith’s side, and Meredith gasped and straightened with her free hand at her ribs. Piper flicked her épée with a flourish and bared her teeth in a semblance of a grin. “Try me, bitch,” she spat. 

Meredith’s face twisted into a grimace of rage, and she lunged at Piper again. Then the two women were duelling in earnest. 

Meredith was high on lyrium, enraged and erratic, but she was still the admiral of the Kirkwall Navy, and she had years of training that Piper couldn’t match. But Piper was high on the desperate need to _not_ die in a flaming inferno of lyrium, and she stayed quick and sharp, skipping away from the admiral to lead her away from the volatile barrels. 

Meredith snarled and slashed at her, and Piper breathlessly dodged and parried as best she could. The admiral’s onslaught was relentless, but Piper was nimble and fast, and as Meredith swiped low with her sword as though to catch Piper’s shins, Piper leapt onto a nearby table, then spun around and kicked Meredith full in the face. 

Meredith stumbled back with blood gushing from both nostrils. Before she could raise her sword, Piper picked up an abandoned empty bottle and jumped off the table, slamming the bottle over Meredith’s head in the process. 

The bottle exploded against Meredith’s forehead with a glorious _smash_ of glass. Meredith stumbled and shrieked in pain and rage, and Piper ignored the flick of pain across her right cheek as a stray shard of glass sliced her face. Then Piper was on the offensive, darting toward the admiral with her épée flicking in a delicate flurry of strikes that would have thrown off any average foe. 

But Meredith was no average foe. She deflected Piper’s every strike with a snarl on her bloodied face, then – to Piper’s surprise – she lunged _into_ Piper’s strikes in a reckless, risky move and grabbed Piper’s sword-holding wrist. 

Piper’s eyes widened. Meredith’s grip on her wrist was hard enough to hurt, but she ignored it and grabbed her dagger from her hip, then slashed at Meredith’s exposed wrist, laying the flesh open in a bloody gash. 

Meredith ignored the bleeding wound and took a step closer to Piper. 

Piper’s breath stalled in alarm. She flipped her dagger deftly into a backwards grip and stabbed it ruthlessly into Meredith’s forearm. 

Meredith ignored the stab wound. She dropped her sword and grabbed Piper by the throat. 

Piper’s mouth popped open in shock, but she couldn’t breathe. Meredith had both hands wrapped around her neck now, and Piper couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t – 

She swiped madly at Meredith’s belly with the dagger, catching the base of her ribs and her belly in a series of shallow strikes, but Meredith didn’t seem to care. She slammed Piper back against a wooden support pillar, and a rush of fear rendered her lightheaded as Meredith’s grip tightened into a steady vice around her neck.

“Captain Piper Lavellan,” Meredith hissed. Her teeth were bared viciously, and her lips were covered in blood from her nose, and she looked utterly insane. “The noose is too good for you. _I_ will be the one to deliver you to justice, make no mistake about that.”

Piper couldn’t speak. She couldn’t breathe. She scraped and scratched at Meredith’s hands, her dagger forgotten on the floor in her desperation as her vision started going black. 

_Calm down, alhasha. You’re going to be fine._ Papa’s words rang in her ears, and she could see his smiling face as the noose tightened around his neck. A surge of panic rose in her chest, but she couldn’t set it free because she couldn’t fucking _breathe_ – 

Then suddenly she could. There was a pained grunt of two bodies hitting the ground, and Piper slumped on the ground gasping fitfully for air. She couldn’t see; stars were bursting behind her eyes, obscuring her vision as the blood returned to her brain, but she could hear Cullen’s voice. 

“Stay down,” he barked. There was the sound of scuffling, then a loud dull thud that sounded like someone’s skull striking the floor. 

A moment later, Cullen’s big gentle hands were cupping her face. “Piper,” he said urgently. “Piper, can you hear me?” He carefully pushed her hair back from her forehead and helped her to sit upright with her back against the pillar. 

She blinked hard, and her eyes finally focused on his face. He was bleeding from a split lip, and he looked terrified.

_Poor Cullen,_ she thought. She didn’t want him to be scared. She swallowed gingerly, then smiled at him. “Golden Boy,” she rasped. Creators, she sounded awful. Almost as awful as she felt, but she wasn’t going to tell him that. 

A bit of tension left his face, and he managed a faint smile. “Don’t speak,” he murmured. He stroked her cheekbone with his thumb. “You’re safe now. Aveline is going to take Meredith into custody, and the fire isn’t spreading any further. It’s going to be all right.” He carefully pulled her into his lap. 

Piper briefly considered telling him that she didn’t need to be coddled. But Cullen’s arms were already wrapped around her, and he was sweaty and sooty but warm and safe, and… honestly, she was pretty fucking tired, truth be told. 

She gave up on the bravado – _just this once,_ she thought – and shamelessly snuggled into him, tucking her head against his neck. “Aren’t you scared to be seen fraternizing with a pirate?” she asked hoarsely. 

Cullen stroked her hair. “That doesn’t matter, Piper,” he whispered. “It doesn’t matter at all.” He kissed her forehead. 

She smiled and closed her eyes. If Cullen was willing to defy the anti-fraternization law, that seemed like a good sign. 

Despite the fight that Piper had nearly lost, maybe her luck was looking up.

###  FENRIS 

Fenris carefully wiped his scimitar on a dead sailor’s coat, then sheathed his weapon and looked at Hawke, who was –

Well, she should have been resting against the wall, but she was pushing herself clumsily to her feet. Fenris hastily stepped over to her side. “What are you doing?” he demanded.

“Getting out of this alley,” she said. She winced as she pushed herself away from the wall, then smiled at him. “Now that all these lovely gentlemen are dead, we should go help our friends, no?”

Fenris frowned. She was trying to act as though she wasn’t in pain, but her posture was stiff with discomfort from being thrown against the wall, and as Fenris watched, a fresh trickle of blood made its way down the left side of her face.

His heart flipped with worry. “You’re in no condition to fight,” he said. “You need rest.” 

She scowled and impatiently wiped the blood from her face. “Fenris, I’m fine. I want to help, I don’t want to be a deadweight.”

“This is not about being dead weight,” he said. “You don’t yet know your limits. Fighting beyond your stamina or your strength is a good way to get yourself killed.”

“Much as I hate to say it, he’s right,” Anders said as he joined them. “You really need to rest.” He glanced dismissively at Fenris. “You, on the other hand, are welcome to go and help our fair captain.” He took the kerchief from Hawke’s hand, then tried to mop the blood from her head. 

She flinched away from him, and Fenris snatched the kerchief from his hand. “Or _you_ can go,” he retorted. “We were fine without your help.”

“Of course you were,” Anders said pleasantly. “And I guess Hawke’s injury will treat itself, then?”

Fenris glared at him, but before he could reply, Hawke spoke up. “I have a question. Why do you hate each other?”

Fenris and Anders scowled at each other, then Fenris looked away. “This is not a good time,” he muttered.

Anders scoffed loudly. “I’m surprised you’re not jumping to tell her your side of the story.”

“There is no ‘my’ side,” Fenris retorted. “You know what you did.”

Anders threw his hands up in frustration. “I can’t believe you care so much about this! He was a slaver! You should be glad something good came from his miserable life.”

A vile memory crossed Fenris’s mind: the captured slaver’s pale, tremorous, sweating body, the smell of vomit and shit that permeated the cell…

He glared at Anders. “That is what you call _good_?” he snapped.

“Think of what we learned!” Anders insisted. “I used that information to treat Loranil one month later! It was –”

Hawke suddenly grabbed Anders’ shoulder. “Oh,” she breathed. “I think I…” She trailed off, and to Fenris’s alarm, she started to keel over. 

“Hawke!” Anders exclaimed. “Are you–”

Fenris scooped her into his arms. 

He didn’t have time to think before he did it, acting on instinct to catch her before she could hit the ground, and he was just as surprised as Hawke seemed to be to find her cradled in his arms. 

She gaped at him for a moment, then grinned and draped her arms around his neck. “Ooh, you were quick to act, weren’t you?”

Fenris stared at her without speaking. He was tongue-tied and paralyzed by his own actions. 

Anders spoke instead. “Wait. You – you’re all right?”

Hawke shot him a quick grin. “I was just trying to get you to stop arguing,” she said cheekily, then she turned her brilliant smile to Fenris. “But by all means, carry me. This is like a moment from _Swords and Shields_.” She laughed. 

Fenris swallowed hard. She was so… she was a pain in the ass, that’s what she was. A cheeky, stubborn, beautiful pain in the ass with blood leaking down her face from the injury she’d taken tonight when Fenris wasn’t paying close enough attention, and –

And she was staring at him. Her face was swiftly softening from amusement to something more serious but no less warm. But the longer they gazed at each other, the more her expression became awkward, and the regrets and apologies and self-recrimination started to beat at the back of Fenris’s mind… 

Anders tutted in disgust. “Unbelievable,” he muttered. 

Just then, Rylen appeared at the end of the alley and jogged toward them. “Anders. Fenris,” he panted. He frowned worriedly at Hawke. “Are you all right? What happened?”

“Nothing,” Hawke chirped. “I’m, er. I saw a rat and got, er, scared.” She released Fenris’s neck, and he set her on her feet once more. 

“I see,” Rylen said slowly. “Well, the battle is over. Meredith is captured, and her remaining men are surrendering.” He turned to Anders. “Will you come with me to the Halla’s Head? Captain Lavellan requires your attention.”

Anders and Fenris snapped to attention at this, and Hawke gasped. “ _What?_ Piper’s hurt?” she demanded. “Is she all right? What happened?”

“She attacked Admiral Meredith head-on,” Rylen said. “She’s injured, but doing well.” To Anders he said, “She ordered me not to bother you, but Cullen was insistent.” He smirked. “Unfortunately for your captain, I follow the Commander’s orders here on dry land.”

Fenris huffed in amusement. He was sure Piper was thrilled about that.

Anders seemed to agree; he tutted in mock annoyance. “Antagonize my patient before I get to her, why don’t you?” he said to Rylen. He turned back to Hawke with a frown. “I’m going to look at that head wound when I get back. Don’t do anything foolish, all right?”

“Yes, doctor,” Hawke simpered, and Anders shot her a chiding smile before hurrying off with Rylen, leaving Hawke and Fenris alone.

She cleared her throat awkwardly and pressed the handkerchief to her bleeding head. “So, um… shall we, er, find the others, then?”

Fenris nodded in silence, and they made their way along the alley toward the Lowtown docks. Despite her apparent cheer, Hawke was walking rather stiffly, and Fenris remained close to her side in case she required support. 

They were quiet as they approached the mouth of the alley. Fenris knew Hawke well enough to know that this sort of silence was very unusual for her, and by the time they stepped out into the heart of Lowtown again, the discomfort was prickling at the back of his neck. 

Hawke looked up at him. “Fenris, listen–”

“Rynne!” Carver ran over to them, and his face creased into a scowl as he looked at her. “You’re still bleeding? All right, that’s enough of this. Let’s go home and we’ll call on Doctor Wynne to have a look at you.”

Fenris tensed, and Hawke raised her eyebrows. “Pardon?” 

“Doctor Wynne,” Carver said more loudly, as though Hawke had misheard. “She can fix that cut on your head. Good thing it’s under your hair; the scar won’t even show.”

Fenris narrowed his eyes. What did it matter if the scar showed or not? 

Hawke laughed lightly and took a step back from him. “Carv, I’m not going back to Hightown.”

He clicked his tongue in annoyance. “Don’t be stupid. You have to come home.” 

She raised her eyebrows. “Why?”

“Because you’re not a bloody pirate!” Carver snapped. “You’re–”

Hawke barked out a bitter laugh. “Yes, finish that sentence, please. What am I, exactly? I mean, you’re a navy sailor. That’s something.” She gestured at herself. “What exactly am I?”

“You’re…” Carver trailed off, and Hawke’s eyebrows rose knowingly as Carver floundered for an answer. Finally he scowled again. “You’re throwing away your entire life, that’s what,” he finally said. “And for what? To run around with criminals stealing merchandise and – and drinking, and…” He gave Fenris a deeply suspicious look, then stepped closer to Rynne and lowered his voice. “And what about your engagement to Duke Prosper?”

Hawke’s jaw dropped. “Are you fucking kidding?”

Carver wrinkled his nose. “And cursing, apparently.” He glared at Fenris as though Hawke’s foul language was his fault.

“Carv, don’t you get it?” Hawke snapped. “I don’t want to get married. I don’t want to be some old man’s pretty little doll sitting in his big fancy house waiting for him to come home and push me around. Don’t you see how unfair that is?” She folded her arms. “Think about it. I don’t see Mother passing _you_ around to all her friends like the next trophy husband in Hightown. In all fairness, you’re not nearly as pretty as me, but–”

“This isn’t funny!” Carver interrupted. “You can’t stay with these pirates. It’s too dangerous. You got badly hurt today!”

She gave him a skeptical look. “And you think I wouldn’t have gotten hurt if I’d married Duke Prosper?”

“What in the Maker’s name are you talking about?” he demanded.

Hawke gaped at him for a moment. Then her face softened with pity. “Oh, baby brother. You have no idea.” She stepped forward and hugged him. “You need to make friends with more of the servants.” 

Carver sputtered indignantly as Hawke pulled away. “What does that – what –” He broke off and rubbed his forehead, then gave Hawke a pleading look. “Rynne, just… come home, all right? It’s… Mother is…”

He trailed off, and Hawke patted his cheek. “I know, Carv. Why do you think I ran away?”

“What do you expect me to tell her?” he said plaintively. 

Hawke shrugged. “Tell her I said goodbye.” 

Carver stared at her, and she steadily returned his gaze. As Fenris watched, Carver’s face slowly transformed from a faintly hangdog expression to an angry mask. 

“You’re being so selfish, you know that?” he snapped. “Leaving your family to do whatever you feel like? What kind of person does that?”

Hawke took a deep breath, and Fenris braced himself for Hawke to tell her brother about their mother’s years of abuse. 

She shrugged and laughed. “You’re right. I am selfish.” She stepped forward and kissed Carver’s cheek. “I’ll see you around, all right?” Without looking at Fenris, she turned and walked away.

Fenris started to follow her, but Carver took hold of his arm. Fenris roughly shrugged him off. “Do not touch me,” he growled.

“You’d better not hurt her,” Carver said. 

A pang of guilt twisted in Fenris’s gut, even though Carver couldn’t possibly know what had transpired between them. “Excuse me?” he said.

“Any of you pirates,” Carver said. He was scowling at Fenris with his fists clenched. “If any of you harm a hair on her head, I’ll… I’ll…” He swallowed hard and squared his shoulders. “You’ll pay.”

_Harm a hair on her head…_ The irony of his phrasing would have been funny if it wasn’t so terrible. Fenris stared hard at Carver, wondering if he should tell Carver about Leandra Hawke’s abuse, but he discarded the idea as soon as it came to him. It wasn’t his business to tell. 

He turned away from Carver without replying and followed Hawke, who was approaching the ruined docks. She was nearing a section of the pier that was still half intact, and as Fenris approached her, she sat down and dangled her legs off the edge of the pier with a sigh. 

Fenris slowly took a seat beside her, and they gazed in silence at the murky debris-filled water for a while. The fires were still burning in some sections of Lowtown, and people were darting back and forth between the bay and the town with pails, but Lowtown was far calmer than when they’d first arrived. 

He glanced at Hawke from the corner of his eye. She looked distinctly melancholy, but as she caught his gaze, she smiled. 

“Well, that was fun,” she said. “Somehow I always seem to forget that my baby brother has all the wits of a box of rocks. A big, strong box of rocks, mind you, but a box of rocks nonetheless.” She chuckled. 

_Always the jokes,_ Fenris thought. But as he studied her tremulous smile, he realized something: just because Hawke was smiling and joking didn’t mean she meant it. 

She elbowed him gently. “You can feel free to say you told me so, by the way,” she said.

Fenris frowned. “Why would I say that?”

“You told me this was a bad idea,” she said. “Coming to Lowtown to try and make sure my brother would be all right. All I managed to do was get my poor head sliced open.” She smiled at Fenris. “Do you think I’ll have a big scar? Maker’s balls, I hope so. Then I’ll really fit in with the crew.” Her grin became a grimace as she reached up to touch her wounded head.

Fenris gently pushed her hand aside before she could touch the wound. “I am sorry this didn’t go as you had hoped,” he said quietly.

She looked at him with wide eyes as though he’d have more advice for her, but Fenris didn’t have anything else to say. He was hardly an expert when it came to family, after all. 

A fleeting image of Varania’s smile drifted across his mind, and he bitterly pushed it aside. Hawke was still gazing at him, and her face was so earnest and hopeful, and it made his chest ache. 

He dropped his gaze and ran one finger under the red ribbon around his wrist. “You didn’t tell him about your mother,” he said quietly. “You allowed him to think this was an entirely selfish choice.”

She shrugged. “It was a selfish choice,” she said casually. “I’m running out on my family. Funnily enough, I’m hardly the first of the Hawkes to do that.”

Fenris frowned. She was thinking of her father and his research, but this was hardly the same. “You saved yourself,” he said. “You escaped a situation that would have had you trapped. Trapped and abused. It is hardly selfish to protect yourself when no one else will.”

She shrugged. Her eyes were still on the bay. “I just didn’t want Carver thinking poorly of my mother. She was never that awful with him, and now he’s stuck as the only one living with her. If he knew how she was with me…” She shrugged. “Maybe he wouldn’t care. We never really got along. But if it made it harder for him to tolerate her?” She grimaced. “She’s bad enough as it is. He doesn’t need me making it worse.”

Fenris frowned more deeply, uncertain if he agreed with her rationale. She gave him a wry little smile, then her gaze darted up behind him. 

“Anders!” she said. “Back already?”

“Yes,” Anders said as he joined them. “Piper is doing fine. Meredith tried to strangle her. She’s all right, I promise,” Anders said hastily as Hawke’s jaw dropped in horror. “She mostly just needs rest. Ideally some ice or a cold compress for her throat, but that’s not likely to happen anytime soon, given the, you know.” He waved vaguely at the fire, then crouched between Hawke and Fenris, and Fenris hastily – and resentfully – shifted over to make room for him. 

Anders was fumbling at the leather pouch at his waist. “We’re going to deal with that wound now,” he said briskly to Hawke. “I’m going to have to cut the hair so I can look at it, and then I’m going to stitch it up.”

“Cut the hair?” Hawke said. Her voice was suddenly tense. “Stitches? Is that necessary? Can’t we bandage it or something?

Anders tilted his head chidingly. “Hawke, I’m surprised at you,” he said gently. “You’re the last person I would have thought would be a difficult patient.”

Fenris shot him a hard look that he didn’t see, and Hawke waved her hand in protest. “I’m not trying to be difficult, I promise!” she said. “I just, um–” 

Anders was already removing a pair of scissors from his doctor’s kit. He gently turned Hawke’s chin to better see the left side of her head. “All right, now hold still,” he said, and he placed his other hand at the back of her head.

Her entire body and face went tense, and Fenris couldn’t sit by any longer. “Stop,” he said sharply. 

Anders sighed loudly. “Fenris, shut up for two minutes–”

“I said stop,” he snarled. He held out his hand. “Give me the scissors. I will cut her hair.” 

“Stop being so territorial,” Anders complained. “She’s not your–”

“Anders,” Hawke said in a tiny voice. “It’s all right. Let him do it.” 

Anders raised his eyebrows, then sat back and handed Fenris the scissors. “Fine,” he said. “Fenris, cut it down to about a centimetre.” 

Fenris nodded. Hawke’s coppery eyes were huge and scared, and he met her gaze unflinchingly as he shifted closer to her. 

“Breathe,” he murmured. 

She nodded tightly and exhaled. Fenris reached up and took a lock of her hair in his fingers. 

It was both damp from the rain and sticky with blood, but Fenris didn’t care. He cut the hair away, then glanced at her face again. 

She was watching him. When he met her eye, she nodded again. 

Very carefully, Fenris lifted another piece of her hair and snipped it away, and he finally spotted the edge of the cut along her scalp. The cut was clotted with blood, some of which was still leaking sluggishly from the edge of the wound, but it was clean and sharp – a testament to the sharpness of the dagger that had been used to inflict it: the same dagger Fenris had given Hawke to protect herself… 

He clenched his jaw, then continued to cut her hair. He worked his way to the edge of the wound, then pared away the hair just above her ear, leaving a small square patch of skin that was almost bare down to the scalp. When he was done, he looked at her face again.

She seemed far more relaxed than before, but her eyes were shiny with tears. Fenris took a deep breath and looked at Anders, who was watching him with a thoughtful frown. 

“And now?” he said gruffly.

Anders handed him a waterskin. “Rinse away the excess blood. Then I’ll have to stitch it,” he said gently to Hawke. “There’s no other choice.”

She nodded. “It’s all right. I’m a big girl, I can take it.” She smiled, and a tear ran down her face. 

Fenris inhaled slowly through his nose. It felt like there was a fist wrapped around his heart. He slowly poured a trickle of water over the nearly-bare patch of skin to soften the clotted blood, and carefully, ever so carefully, he used his fingers to sluice the blood and water away from her ear.

He heard the catching of her breath, and he glanced at her. “Hawke,” he said quietly. “Breathe.” 

She exhaled. “So bossy,” she said. “You know I like it when you boss me around.” 

He did his best to return her smile. “Unfortunate that you so rarely listen to me, then.”

Her smile widened, even as another tear ran down her cheek. Fenris finished rinsing away the blood, then moved back to let Anders sit closer. 

Anders already had a curved needle and thread at the ready, but he narrowed his eyes as he studied Hawke’s head. “Usually I would have you lie down on your side so your head was stabilized,” he told her. “But that’s not really an option here. Um…”

Fenris nervously licked his lips. “She can… she can rest her head on my shoulder,” he suggested. 

Hawke looked at him with wide eyes, but Fenris couldn’t quite meet her gaze. Anders hesitated, then nodded. “All right,” he said. “Hawke, if you can…”

Hawke eyed Fenris cautiously, then shuffled closer until they were sitting face to face. Then, tentatively, she leaned toward him and nestled her head against the crook of his neck and shoulder. 

Her hair was damp but her skin was warm, and a ripple of goosebumps ran down his neck. Anders settled himself on his knees beside her. “All right, I’m going to get started,” he said to Hawke. “I’m sorry I have nothing to numb the skin – you’ll just have to grin and bear it…”

“Oh good,” Hawke said. “I’m very good at one of those things, at least.”

Anders chuckled softly. “It’s a start.” Then he lowered the needle toward the side of her head. 

She gasped, and her fingers bit into Fenris’s forearm. Fenris grabbed her hand, and then she was clutching his hand in turn, and he squeezed her fingers firmly as Anders continued to stitch her scalp. 

They were still and silent as Anders worked, and eventually Hawke’s grip relaxed. But she didn’t release Fenris’s hand, and he didn’t want to jostle her, so he permitted her to keep holding on to him for comfort.

A few long, quiet minutes later, Anders sighed. “Done,” he said. He smiled faintly at Hawke. “Good grinning and bearing. You should get injured more often.”

Hawke laughed but didn’t lift her head from Fenris’s shoulder. “Is that the official doctor’s position?” she asked. 

Her voice sounded distinctly wobbly. The fist around Fenris’s heart tightened at the sound, but Anders chuckled. “Yes,” he deadpanned. “How else will I practice my skills unless you get hurt?”

Hawke laughed again, and Anders rose to his feet. “Well, I’ll go and help some of the others. You should come later, if you’re feeling up to it,” he added. “I could use your help.” 

She nodded. “I will,” she said. “Thanks, Anders.”

“You’re very welcome,” he said, and he walked away. Once he was out of earshot, Hawke sniffled. 

Fenris didn’t move. Hawke sniffled again, but she didn’t speak, and Fenris sat quietly with his heart pounding painfully in his chest as she cried. He knew it wasn’t the stitches she was crying about, but he wasn’t sure how to comfort her about the rest of it, so he sat silently, holding her hand and allowing her tears to seep into his rain-dampened tunic. 

Some time later, she took a deep and shaky breath, then lifted her head from his shoulder and wiped her face. “Fenris, I’m really sorry.”

He regarded her with surprise. “For what?”

“For kissing you,” she said. 

His gut seized in alarm, but she wasn’t finished. “I shouldn’t have done that,” she said. “It was impulsive and rude and you’re right, you were just trying to train me, and I was – it was–” She broke off nervously and twisted her fingers together. “This isn’t a romance novel,” she said bluntly. “And sometimes I forget that because you’re very dreamy like a romance hero. And – oh, for Maker’s fucking sake.” She rubbed her face. “What I mean to say is I’m sorry I threw myself at you and it won’t happen again, and – can we be friends?”

He gaped at her. “What?” he said stupidly.

“Can we be friends?” she repeated. “Even without the, er, kissing, I like spending time with you. You’re smart and kind and you have interesting things to say, and you make me laugh, so I – um. I’d like it if we could be friends, if – if you want to.” She gave him a smile that was more like a grimace and kept twisting her fingers together. 

He continued to stare at her. This wasn’t at all what he’d expected her to say. Based on how insistent she was back in his cabin on the Lady Luck, he’d expected her to plead for another chance. But now she was asking to be friends – _just friends_ – and it was…

It was good. This was good. He could keep her at a distance this way, just as he’d done with Varric and Piper and Kaaras. 

He swallowed the painful lump in his throat. “Yes,” he said slowly. “We can remain friends.” What other choice did he have? It wasn’t like he was capable of anything more.

The tension left her shoulders, and she beamed at him. “Oh good,” she said cheerfully. “And just be warned, I flirt with all my friends without exception. Nobody is safe from my irresistible charm.” She batted her eyelashes at him.

He scoffed to disguise the terrible ache in his chest. “I am well aware of your flirtation, Hawke. As is the entire crew of the Lady Luck.”

She grinned. “Are you calling me incorrigible?” 

“That is one word for it,” Fenris said. “Irrepressible is another. Irritating, irreverent…”

She threw her head back and laughed. Then, to Fenris’s disappointment, she turned away from him to face the bay once more. “Does this mean we can go back to our usual training?” she said. “As you can see, I can use the practice.” She gestured ruefully at her stitched-up head. 

Fenris nodded. “Yes. There was never any doubt,” he assured her. “It is my job to train you, after all.”

She smiled. “Of course.” She glanced at the bay and idly swung her feet over the debris-filled water, and Fenris tried to think of something else to say through the churning miasma of disappointment and relief and wistfulness in his belly. 

After a moment of quiet, she shot him another cheeky smile. “How do I look with this frightful haircut, by the way? Am I still pretty?”

_You are beautiful,_ he thought. With her brilliant smile and her bright coppery eyes and the melancholy that she fought so hard to hide, Hawke was the most beautiful woman he’d ever met. 

He inhaled through another inconvenient surge of longing and smirked at her. “You look like a pirate,” he said. 

She grinned and bumped his arm companionably with hers. “That’s the nicest compliment I’ve ever heard,” she said happily. 

He smiled faintly, and she chuckled before pushing herself stiffly to her feet. “Well, I want to go find Piper and show her my fantastic new pirate haircut,” she said. “Care to join me?”

“I would,” he said. Hawke smiled at him as he stood up, and then he was leading her through the wounded landscape of the Lowtown market toward the Halla’s Head. She made clever comments and poked fun at him, and as he returned her witty repartee, he did his best to ignore the leadlike feeling in his belly.

Being friends with Hawke was good. It was safe and low-risk, and it meant he could control what she saw and how she saw him. 

And if Fenris happened to have any fantasies about Hawke seeing and feeling his skin and everything it represented, he could remind himself that those fantasies were better exactly where they were: relegated to the back of his mind, along with any hopes he might have had for something grander than the safe, placid, routine life he’d built for himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next week: Some Cullen POV! And as Schoute said to me earlier this week, "SHOULD I STAY OR SHOULD I GO????"
> 
> I am [Pikapeppa on Tumblr,](https://pikapeppa.tumblr.com/) and our delightful resident artist and genius Schoute can be found [here!](https://schoute.tumblr.com/) xoxox


	15. Verdict

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A note this week: there’s some legal stuff in this chapter, but I didn’t bother to research it for historical accuracy because ~~I DO WHAT I WANT~~ historical accuracy of legal issues aren’t crucial to the plot of this fic. If you want legal stuff that is more crucial to the plot, you can feel free to check out our modern AU fics, [Damned Spot (for FenRynne)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17710157/chapters/41780090) and [Luck of the Law (for Piperford)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17966816).

###  CULLEN 

Piper was nervous.

She was hiding it well; her irreverent grin was in place, and her swagger was as jaunty as ever as she walked through the navy headquarters at Cullen’s side. She winked at the office messengers and mockingly saluted the lieutenants who had arrested her in the past, just like she usually did. But as Cullen led her past the door that led out to the gallows, her fingers darted up to her neck for a split second before she brought her hand back down and hooked her thumbs cockily into her belt. 

She smiled up at him. “Any chance for a cup of coffee, since I’m here as a guest for once? I seem to recall Rylen saying you get the good Rivaini stuff here.” She wiggled her eyebrows. 

Cullen smiled feebly at her. Her voice was still raspy from the fight with Meredith two days ago, and the bruises from Meredith’s fingers were a livid purple against her dark golden skin. Given what she’d been through, Cullen couldn’t blame her for being nervous.

But Piper was safe now. By Aveline’s command as the interim Admiral, she and her crew were permitted in the city for as long as it took for Meredith’s fate to be decided, and no further harm could come to her while she was in the city or this building. Cullen would make sure of it. 

He didn’t say this, though. And he bit back the urge to reassure her. She was Captain Piper Lavellan, after all; she was bold and brave, and if Cullen offered her words of comfort in public, especially here in the Kirkwall Navy headquarters, he knew she would simply laugh him down. 

In private, however, it was a different matter. For the two nights since the fire in Lowtown, Cullen had stayed on the Lady Luck on the excuse that his previous quarters in the navy barracks were occupied. During those two nights, he and Piper had fallen asleep face-to-face on her bed as had become their routine – a routine that Cullen had come to cherish.

But during these past two nights, Piper had woken him in the middle of the night by whimpering in her sleep. Cullen opened his eyes to find her sleeping face crumpled with distress and her fingers plucking convulsively at her wounded throat. The only way he could calm her down was by sliding closer to her on the covers and gathering her against his body until she relaxed. 

The morning following that first uneasy night, Cullen had woken up to find Piper’s head still tucked beneath his chin. When he realized that she was already awake, he immediately loosened his embrace. 

She was smiling at him in a salacious manner, and his blasted cheeks instantly started to warm. “Piper,” he said. “I – my apologies. I don’t mean to be intruding in your space.”

Her smile widened. “If you wanted me to feel you at full mast, Golden Boy, all you needed to do was ask.” She shifted her thigh slightly, brushing against his morning erection in the process. 

A bloom of pleasure spread through his abdomen. Mortified, he jerked away from her. “No! I – I’m sorry, Piper, I didn’t mean–” 

She laughed brightly, then winced in discomfort, and Cullen winced as well; her voice was harsh and gravelly still, and it probably would be for some time, given her near-strangulation the night before. 

Piper grimaced and rubbed her throat as she sat up. “ _Fenedhis._ I need to get Anders to mix me up some pain potion or something.” 

“Y-you should,” Cullen said distractedly. He was sitting up at the edge of the bed facing away from her and wishing fervently for his overeager manhood to calm down. 

Piper chuckled. “Oh Cullen, relax. I promise not to grab your cock. Not unless you want me to, that is.”

 _I would like that,_ he thought. Then he was instantly horrified that he might have said it out loud. 

“I – er – you had a troubled night,” he stammered. “You were, um–” He broke off and silently cursed himself, then took a moment to gather his wits before turning to face her. “You seemed troubled in the middle of the night,” he said more calmly. “I believe you were having a nightmare. Do you remember…?”

He trailed off. Her cheeky expression had faded into an oddly hunted look. 

He gazed at her in concern. “Piper, what’s the matter?”

“Nothing!” she said. She smiled once more. “Yeah, I guess I had a nightmare. That’s strange. Did I ever tell you about the time I had a dream about a tornado happening just north of Dairsmuid, and then it actually came true?”

Cullen stared at her, nonplussed by the sudden change of subject. “Er – no, you didn’t tell me.”

She laughed and swung her legs out of the bed. “Oh, this is a good one. I had a dream that a tornado happened. And in this dream, I remember this one very clear image: the sky was black with clouds, and the field where the tornado touched down was full of strawberries. Specifically with strawberries,” she emphasized as she pulled on her breeches. Then she started pulling off the cropped blouse she had slept in. 

Cullen dropped his gaze to his lap, and she continued to speak as she changed her clothes. “Two weeks later, the crew and I stopped in Rivain for a few days, and Varric and I went to pick up some dried fruit at this elven farm. It was a stormy morning, see, and the next thing we knew, this tornado touches down in the middle of the farmer’s field.” Fully dressed now, she turned around to face him again, and her eyes were wide with wonder. “I swear to you, Cullen, it was the exact image from my dream. The black clouds, the strawberries in the field, and everything lit up with that bright, surreal light that you get during a really wild thunderstorm, you know?”

Her voice was raspy but animated, and her storytelling was as enthralling as ever. But Cullen wasn’t sure why she had changed the subject so abruptly. 

“That’s remarkable,” he said. 

“It really was,” she said sagely. “I’m basically a seer.”

Cullen huffed in amusement. “I’m not sure I would go that far.”

“I would,” she said. Her eyes were twinkling with mirth, and Cullen was loathe to spoil her bright mood. But her distress last night had clearly been caused by Meredith’s attempt on her life. 

He rose from the bed and approached her. “Do you recall the nightmare you had last night? You were… you were grasping your neck.”

She dropped her gaze to the colourful carpet and laughed lightly. “Yeah. That Meredith, huh?” She skipped over to the door of her quarters. “Come on, let’s grab some breakfast. You have a big day in the Gallows to prepare for. Legal proceedings and all that tosh.” She opened the door, then gestured gallantly for him to step outside. 

_She doesn’t want to speak of this,_ he thought. Perhaps there was more to this nightmare than she was letting on. But if she didn’t want to talk about it now, Cullen didn’t want to press her. 

Last night, however, the same thing occurred: Cullen woke in the middle of the night to the sound of Piper whimpering in her sleep and clutching at her injured neck, and she didn’t calm down until he slid close and tucked her in his arms. This morning when he’d woken with Piper pressed against his chest, she hadn’t commented on his infernal morning wood, and he hadn’t asked her about the dreams that were clearly haunting her. And now, as they made their way along the corridor to the courtroom, the only hint of nerves she had shown was the quick darting of her fingers to her throat.

As they approached the courtroom doors, Cullen took a deep breath, then looked down at her. “Are you ready?” he said. “As I mentioned, you will likely be one of the first witnesses called to speak, if not the very first. You don’t need to remain for the entire court proceedings if you don’t want to–”

She reached up and patted his cheek. “Relax, Cullen. I’m happy to be here,” she said warmly. “And I won’t be bored, if that’s what you’re worried about. Not if it means I get an excuse to stare at that fine ass of yours.” She grinned at him. 

He cleared his throat and tugged his cravat. It was odd and rather uncomfortable to be wearing a cravat again after nearly two weeks without. “Yes, well,” he stammered. Then he straightened up and gave Piper a stern look. “Behave yourself, Captain Lavellan. As best as you can.”

He fully expected some kind of lewd joke in return. To his surprise, her mischievous grin softened, and she stroked his cheek more tenderly than before. “I will,” she said seriously. “If it means you get your justice, I’ll be the most well-behaved pirate in all of Kirkwall.”

He gazed at her with a throb of fondness. “Thank you,” he said softly. “Not just for the, er, good behaviour, but for… for being here. And… for everything. Truly.”

Her gentle smile widened, and she quickly kissed him on the cheek. “I would wish you luck, but you don’t need it,” she said. “You have me.”

He smiled at her, then took a deep breath and pushed open the courtroom doors. 

Piper made a little noise of surprise. “Where is everyone?” 

Indeed, the courtroom was largely empty aside from two navy scribes and the court clerk. Cullen shot her a faintly chiding look and ushered her into the room with one hand at her back. “Were you hoping for an audience?” 

She grinned at him. “I just thought there’d be, you know, gawkers.” She waved at the empty gallery. 

Cullen _harrumph_ ed. “It’s not for lack of trying on their part,” he said. There had indeed been a large crowd of Hightown nobles and Lowtown residents alike clamouring at the doors of the navy headquarters this morning in the hopes of watching Meredith’s trial and sentencing. Cullen had escorted Piper through the back door, not wanting to incite more excitement than this whole debacle had already garnered. 

Piper looked up at him. “People wanted to watch? Why couldn’t they? I thought trials in Kirkwall were open to the public.”

“This is not a normal trial,” Cullen explained. “It is an internal affair. Spectators are not permitted, and no jury is required. It allows for disciplinary action to be taken more swiftly.”

Piper frowned. “If there’s no jury, who decides how the case is resolved?”

“The Admiral and the two senior Commanders, usually,” Cullen said ruefully. “However, given these circumstances…” 

She barked out a little laugh. “No, I suppose that wouldn’t do.” She cocked her head curiously at the bench, which stood empty still. “So in the absence of a proper admiral who isn’t completely insane, who decides Meredith’s fate?”

“It would have been me, if I wasn’t involved in the case,” he said. “The next person in line would have been Aveline, as the interim Admiral, but she too is providing key testimony, and… well, as it stands, the case will be decided by the Divine herself.” He rubbed the back of his neck tiredly. Sorting through the intricacies of jurisdiction and judgment for Meredith’s case had been… arduous, to say the least, and had only served to remind Cullen of the more exhausting and mind-numbing elements of his job. 

Piper’s eyes went wide. “Seriously? Isn’t that kind of extreme?”

“Yes,” Cullen admitted. “But the circumstances are also extreme. Fortunately, Divine Cassandra was once an admiral of the Nevarran Navy herself. She is well qualified to judge these matters.” He gestured politely for Piper to take a seat at one of the empty benches in the gallery, just behind the counsel tables. 

Piper snorted. “Well, _I_ think the residents of Lowtown should be the ones to decide what happens to Meredith. They’re the ones who suffered the most, after all.” She plopped down on the bench and kicked her feet up on the bar railing. “At the very least, they should get to watch. See that Meredith gets the punishment she deserves.” 

Cullen raised his eyebrows. “You truly think that is a good idea?” he asked. He lifted her legs down from the bar railing before sitting beside her.

She shrugged. “Sure. Everyone should get to watch. If criminals like pirates are tried in front of everyone, then criminals within the navy should also be tried in front of everyone. It’s only fair, right?” 

Cullen frowned slightly. As usual, she wasn’t wrong. But the Kirkwall Navy had always operated by solving their own affairs as quietly and efficiently as possible, and in truth, Cullen appreciated the expediency; being caught in weeks’ worth of red tape when trying to deliver justice was a waste of time, in his opinion.

But the closed-door policy of decision-making had contributed directly to those terrible anti-piracy laws being pushed through so quickly – laws that Cullen himself had helped to write. 

A gentle stroke of fingers at his temple pulled him from his thoughts. He looked at Piper, who was smiling at him. 

“What, you don’t like my idea?” she teased gently. 

“I do, in fact,” he said. “Perhaps our methods have been kept too quiet. If we had been held more accountable, then…” He shook his head. “It is certainly something that should be addressed in the future.”

Piper nodded. “Well, maybe that’s something you can look into when you get back to your job.”

He glanced at her sharply. Her words and tone were flippant, but she was idly braiding a lock of hair at her temple, and she wasn’t looking at him. 

A little pang of tenderness squeezed his heart. In all the busy rush of sorting through the mess Meredith had wrought, he hadn’t had a chance to speak to her about his plans once this debacle was behind him.

He shifted closer to her. “Piper, I wanted to speak to you about this. I… I have been thinking–” 

She cut him off. “Where are the other witnesses, by the way?” she asked. She gave him a playful pout. “We’re here extremely early, aren’t we? Such a proper and punctual commander, you are.” 

“Er – yes,” he said, thrown off by her change of subject. “They should be here shortly. But Piper, I wanted–”

The doors to the courtroom opened with a loud creak. Distracted, Cullen turned to see Aveline striding down the central aisle. 

“Commander. Captain Lavellan,” she said with a brisk nod. 

“Finally she gets it right,” Piper muttered.

Aveline didn’t seem to hear her. “I trust we’ll be ready to proceed soon,” she said as she took a seat beside him on the bench. “I saw Mother Leliana on the way, and your lieutenant.” 

“Good,” Cullen said. He took a deep breath to calm his flustered gut and smoothed a hand over his cravat. A few moments later, Leliana and Rylen entered the room.

Rylen greeted Cullen with a smart salute before taking a seat on another bench beside Leliana, and Cullen nodded to him in return. Then the door adjacent to the bench opened with a loud creak, and the Divine Cassandra Pentaghast entered the courtroom. 

Rylen, Aveline, Leliana, and Cullen politely rose to their feet. Piper didn’t move.

Cullen gave her a pointed look, and she raised her eyebrows. “What?” she asked. She rubbed her nose. “Is there something on my face?”

He bit back a very inappropriate laugh. He couldn’t decide if she was joking or not. But before he could ask her to stand up, the others were sitting down again. 

Then the courtroom doors opened again, and Meredith entered the room, chained at the wrists and ankles and escorted by three navy guardsmen. She was sporting two black eyes, a large bruise on her forehead and a gash across her nose. She looked far worse for wear than Piper, not to mention absolutely furious.

She glowered at Piper as the guardsmen led her past the bar and into the criminal’s box, and Piper snorted and stretched her arms out across the back of the bench. “No need for her to look so pissed,” she whispered to Cullen. “I think the broken nose suits her, personally.”

“Let us begin,” Cassandra announced. She briskly tapped her papers on her podium, then lifted her gaze to look at them. “Commander Cullen Stanton Rutherford, approach the bench.” 

Piper briefly squeezed his hand, and he shot her a very quick smile before rising and crossing the bar to stand behind one of the counsel tables. Then, just as he had practiced three times the day before with Rylen’s assistance, he began telling Cassandra the entire story of Meredith’s involvement with red lyrium, her attempted murder, and his eventual rescue by Piper and her crew. 

When he got to the part of the story detailing their return to Kirkwall, Cassandra’s customary frown deepened. “Explain this trip to Rialto,” she said. “Why did you not return to Kirkwall immediately after your rescue on Estwatch? What were you doing in Rialto?”

 _Falling hopelessly in love with a pirate,_ Cullen thought. He lifted his chin and calmly met Cassandra’s gaze. “Lieutenant Rylen and I were guests aboard Captain Lavellan’s ship,” he said. “She had previously planned business in Rialto to attend to. She accommodated us by returning us to Kirkwall, and at great personal risk. Anyone else may have refused to help entirely.”

Cassandra studied him shrewdly for a moment. Then she nodded sharply. “Proceed.” 

He continued the tale, explaining how they had seen the fire engulfing the Lowtown docks from the Lady Luck, and finally concluding with Piper’s role in stopping Meredith from blowing up the Halla’s Head in Lowtown. “Captain Lavellan was nearly killed,” he added. “It was extremely fortunate that I was able to pull Meredith away from her.”

Cassandra nodded slowly. “Thank you, Commander,” she said. 

Cullen bowed, then took his seat on the bench beside Piper. Then Cassandra looked at Piper. “Captain Piper Lavellan,” she said. “It appears that you have played a crucial role in all of this.” 

Piper stood up, then did an ostentatious little bow. “At your service, Her Worshipfulness.” 

Cullen bit the inside of his cheek and hoped that Cassandra wouldn’t catch the hint of mockery in her tone. Cassandra frowned, but she gestured to Piper to come closer. “Approach the bar,” she said.

Piper casually hopped over the bar railing and seated herself on the counsel table. Cassandra’s frown deepened. “It strikes me as odd that only the Kirkwall Navy knew about Cullen’s location, and yet you arrived just in time to save his life.” 

Cullen straightened in mild alarm at the implication in her words, and Piper barked out an incredulous little laugh. “Are you suggesting I was working with this madwoman?” she jerked her thumb in Meredith’s direction.

“I am telling you to explain how you discovered Cullen’s whereabouts,” Cassandra replied. 

Piper tutted in annoyance. “My crew and I came to Kirkwall to see Cullen,” she said. “But when we arrived, we were informed that he had been transferred to Estwatch.”

Cassandra narrowed her eyes. “I will ignore the fact that your presence in Kirkwall at the time of that visit was illegal,” she said. “Who informed you of Cullen’s transfer?”

“Rynne Hawke,” Piper said. “Her brother Carver is in the navy.” She shrugged. “He could probably testify if you needed him to.”

Cassandra huffed. “Perhaps later, if it is necessary.” She leaned forward slightly. “Why did you come to Kirkwall to see Cullen? What business did a pirate and a commander of the Kirkwall Navy have?”

Cullen expected Piper to explain that she had come to give him more information about blood lyrium. But her answer took him by surprise. “There was no business,” she said. “I just wanted to see him.” 

Cassandra’s eyebrows rose. “You flouted the law just to… see him?”

“Yes,” Piper said. “He’s a good man. He always tries to do the right thing, even if it almost gets him killed. I would cross the entire Amaranthine Ocean for a man like that.” She grinned at him over her shoulder. “And now I have.” 

He stared back at her stupidly. His heart was pounding out a painful beat of adoration in his chest, and he could feel the blood flooding his cheeks, and… Maker’s breath, he loved her. He _loved_ her, her brightness and her vivacity and her foul mouth and her good heart, and he suddenly desperately wanted for this trial to be over so that he could tell her what he was going to do–

Cassandra cleared her throat. Cullen tore his gaze back to her, then raised his eyebrows; Cassandra was scowling, but her cheeks were pink. 

She _harrumph_ ed. “Well. That is very… romantic,” she muttered. She shot Cullen a suspicious look, then cleared her throat again and straightened in her seat. “Tell us, er, about the scene you witnessed on Estwatch. Spare no details.” 

Piper explained what she’d seen on the way to Estwatch and once she’d arrived. In true Piper fashion, she turned the telling into a tale complete with suspenseful twists and excitable recounts of sword fights, and by the time she’d brought to story to its end on the Lady Luck, Cassandra was leaning forward in her seat. 

“... and after a much-needed night’s sleep and an extremely well-earned breakfast, Golden– I mean, Cullen graciously agreed to come to Rialto while I conducted my perfectly legitimate and non-threatening business. And that, m’lady, is the thrilling story of Commander Cullen’s daring rescue.” She gave Cassandra a satisfied smile. 

Cassandra gazed at her with interest for a moment longer, then seemed to snap back to herself and sat back in her seat with a frown. “Hmm. I will get corroborating evidence from Lieutenant Rylen shortly, I am certain.” 

Rylen nodded silently from his seat on the bench. Then Cassandra folded her arms. “Cullen has explained what happened in the Halla’s Head from what he saw. I must hear it now in your words.”

Piper crossed her legs jauntily. “All right. We arrived at the Halla’s Head, and what did we find but an empty tavern lit by–”

“Without the embellishments, Captain,” Cassandra said wearily.

Piper pouted playfully. “Fine, since you asked nicely. We got to the Halla’s Head, and Meredith was in there alone, pacing around beside five barrels of blood lyrium.”

Cassandra’s eyebrows jumped up on her forehead. “Five barrels? That is–”

“–enough to supply the navy for more than six months?” Piper finished. “Exactly.” 

Cullen winced at her speculation, and Cassandra frowned. “Enough conjecture, Captain Lavellan. I only want the facts.”

Piper sighed loudly. “Fine, fine.” She waved carelessly at Meredith, who was glaring at Piper more venomously than ever. “She was pacing around by five barrels of lyrium, and she tried to accuse me personally of having something to do with the lyrium being in Kirkwall. When Cullen told her to stand down, she threatened to light the barrels on fire.”

Cassandra frowned. “Go on.”

“Cullen tried to talk her down. And I think he would have succeeded,” Piper said. “But a bunch of addicted navy men burst in and attacked Cullen and Rylen, and Meredith almost smashed an oil lantern all over the lyrium, so I ran at her and shoved her away from it.”

“Lies,” Meredith suddenly said. 

They all turned to look at her. Her face was twisted into a snarl of rage. “That’s all you will hear from the tongues of pirates: filthy lies.” She glared at Piper. “You have fooled the traitorous commander, and you think you can fool the Divine, but _I_ can’t be fooled.”

Piper snorted and idly dangled her feet. “Joke’s on you, then. You’re the biggest fucking fool in this room.”

“Silence!” Meredith snapped. “I will not stand for this impertinence! First the lyrium, and now this?”

“Stand down, Meredith,” Cassandra barked.

“I cannot!” she shrieked. “I cannot stand by to see this pirate pull the wool over your eyes!” She surged to her feet in the criminal’s box. “You have spread your corruption through Kirkwall for the last time,” she hissed at Piper. “I swear on the Maker, I will see you dead for this.”

“For what, exactly?” Cassandra said.

Piper shot her an offended look. “Hey,” she protested. “That hurts my feelings.”

But Cullen understood what Cassandra was doing. She was trying to coax information out of Meredith by allowing her to rant, and rant she certainly did.

She spun toward Cassandra. “For corrupting Kirkwall with her piracy! It is a sin and a plague upon our fair people, spreading her diseased drug throughout the lands. The only way to defeat them is to use their weapon against them.”

Cullen gaped at her. _That_ was her justification for using blood lyrium? For getting half of the Kirkwall Navy addicted to the foul substance? “You gave lyrium to the men to power your overzealous vendetta against piracy?” he demanded.

Cassandra frowned at him for speaking out of turn, but Meredith was already replying. “There is no cause more just!” She glared at Piper once more. “You will die for this, pirate witch.”

Piper grinned at her – the sort of grin that a cat reserved for a mouse it was about to eat. “You already tried,” she drawled. “It didn’t stick.”

Meredith leaned toward her. “Laugh all you want, you criminal scum,” she snarled. “I saw your fear.”

Piper scoffed loudly and rolled her eyes, but Meredith pressed on. “I saw it,” she insisted. “You were terrified because you knew you were in the wrong. You knew my righteous hands were about to take away your vile breath.” 

Cullen’s mouth popped open in surprise. Meredith had just openly admitted to trying to kill Piper.

“Shut up,” Piper said.

Cullen looked at her, distracted by the intensity of her tone. She wasn’t wearing her threatening grin anymore. 

Meredith slammed her shackled fists on the railing of the criminal’s box. “You would not be alive if not for this traitor’s actions!” she shouted while pointing at Cullen. “He should hang for this! Oh, I would gladly see all of you hanging from the gallows: you, and this traitor and his accomplice.” She waved angrily at Rylen. “I will be satisfied by nothing less than your purpling faces as you dangle–”

To Cullen’s alarm, Piper suddenly shoved herself to her feet. “Shut up!” she yelled.

“Captain, control yourself,” Cassandra said sharply. 

“ _Me?_ ” Piper yelled. “Listen to her! She just admitted to trying to kill me!”

“And I would try again!” Meredith shrieked. “Kirkwall deserves nothing less than my righteous fingers wringing the life from your worthless body!”

Piper barked out a snarl of a laugh. “You fucking asshole,” she hissed, and she took two aggressive steps toward the criminal’s box. 

“Captain, _stop!_ ” Cassandra barked.

She didn’t stop. Before she could reach the criminal’s box, Cullen vaulted over the railing and grabbed her hand. “Piper!” he blurted. 

She stopped, her chest heaving with anger, and Cullen lowered his voice. “Piper, it’s all right. She can’t hurt you,” he said, very quietly.

“I know that!” Piper snapped belligerently. “I _know_ that. Nobody can hurt me.” She glared at Meredith, who was being forced back down onto her chair by two of the guards who had led her into the room. “I hope you burn like the docks you tried to destroy, you putrid piece of human offal,” she spat.

“That is enough,” Cassandra snapped. “Captain Lavellan, thank you for your testimony. You may leave.”

Piper looked up at her in surprise. “What? No! I want to stay and see–”

“No,” Cassandra said firmly. “Your presence is disrupting proceedings. Thank you for your time.”

Piper snorted in disgust. “Fine,” she retorted. “Then I’m going to Lowtown to try and fix some of the damage this nasty bitch has done.” She turned on her heel and started to walk away. 

Cullen took a pleading step toward her. “Piper, I’m sorry.” 

“It’s not your fault,” she said brusquely. Then she took a deep breath and looked him in the eye. “I’m fine,” she said, more calmly. “It’s fine.” She gave him a tiny wink, then vaulted over the bar and sauntered casually up the aisle toward the courtroom exit. 

Cullen watched with a pang in his chest as she shoved open the courtroom doors. A moment before the doors swung shut behind her, she flashed her middle finger in Meredith’s direction, and Cullen couldn’t decide whether to be amused or horrified, or simply pained by the sight of her walking away. 

“Commander, please take your seat,” Cassandra said.

He gave Cassandra a distracted half-bow and resumed his seat on the gallery bench, and she called Rylen to approach. Cullen listened with half an ear as Cassandra interviewed the faithful lieutenant about his part in the lyrium investigation and what he had witnessed on Estwatch, but most of his mind was occupied wondering why Piper had snapped at Meredith in that manner. He knew she was quick to lash out when the people she cared about were threatened; she had killed multiple men and started a bar brawl to defend him, after all. But this was the first time Cullen had ever seen her snap so viciously in her own defense. 

It seemed natural that Piper would be feeling more nervous around Meredith than anyone else. Meredith had nearly killed her, after all. But Piper hadn’t seemed bothered when Meredith had first entered the room.

He forced himself to return his attention to the court proceedings. He could continue to ponder Piper’s reaction when this distasteful matter was dealt with. 

It was another two hours before Cassandra finished interviewing everyone, then taken a recess to review the evidence. When she finally returned to the courtroom to deliver her verdict, Cullen was feeling both restless and exhausted.

 _Odd that I used to tolerate these proceedings on a regular basis,_ he thought ruefully. In retrospect, perhaps these sorts of proceedings had always been this wearying, and Cullen had always just been too exhausted or preoccupied to notice how tiring they were. 

Cassandra waved a hand for their small assembly to take a seat. She placed her palms on the podium and gazed seriously at them. “This is a complex matter, and I see no easy solution. One matter is clear, however.” She looked at Meredith. “Meredith Stannard, you are hereby stripped of your navy rank. You will leave the Kirkwall Navy on a dishonourable discharge.” 

“No!” Meredith yelled. “You cannot! Piracy and filth will run unchecked through Lowtown without my control!”

Cassandra made a disgusted noise and waved to the guards. “Take her to the jail. She may froth at the mouth all she likes down there.” She turned to look at Cullen and Aveline. “As for Meredith’s ultimate punishment for this crime, and the crimes against the people of Lowtown: that is a matter that will be decided by the Admiral of the Kirkwall Navy.” 

Cullen tensed. A moment later, Cassandra delivered the words he had been dreading. “Commander Cullen Rutherford, I recommend you to the post of Admiral of the Kirkwall Navy, effective immediately. Will you accept this duty?”

Her expression was benign and serious. She clearly expected him to say yes. A mere month ago, Cullen would have said yes.

He glanced at Rylen, and Rylen gave him a tiny nod. 

Cullen faced Cassandra once more, then took a deep breath and lifted his chin. “Your Holiness,” he said, “I would like to apply to resign from the Kirkwall Navy.”

###  PIPER 

Piper sauntered casually toward the main entrance of the navy headquarters. She smiled cheekily at everyone she encountered, and she saluted mockingly as she meandered past the senior lieutenants’ desks. But as soon as she stepped out of the Gallows and back into the streets of Hightown, she took off for Lowtown at a flat run.

She was still seething from Meredith’s taunts, but she was even more angry at herself for losing her temper during such an important moment for Cullen. She shouldn’t have allowed Meredith to get to her so easily. So what if Meredith had been talking about strangling and hangings and all that horrific shit? Cullen’s case was on the line, and Piper should have kept her cool. She could only hope that her behaviour hadn’t reflected too badly on him.

She purposely ran as noisily as she could, relishing the pounding of her booted feet on the paving stones as she bolted past the hoity-toity Hightown market towards the now-familiar wreckage of Lowtown. The upper-class ladies gasped and exclaimed as she flew past, but she cheerfully ignored them, running as fast as she could until she finally reached the stairs overlooking Lowtown.

She paused for a moment at the top of the stairs to catch her breath. Lowtown was… still a fucking mess, really. But even in the space of one day, it was looking a little better than before. The entire community had pulled together to share shelter and food and supplies, and merchants were cooperating instead of bickering as they tried to restore the destruction of their stalls. Some of Piper’s crew were helping to move rubble and debris, and once her heart rate had slowed down, she traipsed down the stairs to join them. 

She smiled and clapped the shoulders of her Lowtown acquaintances as she picked her way through Lowtown toward the eastern docks. Anders had set up a makeshift clinic area for Rynne to treat minor wounds and dehydration, and Piper made a beeline for her clinic, figuring she could hunker down with Rynne for a while until Cullen…

 _Until Cullen what?_ she thought. Even after the battle in Lowtown and the past two nights they’d spent on the Lady Luck, she still didn’t know what his plans were after this Meredith bullshit was wrapped up. 

Her stomach jolted. It was almost surreal to think that today was the day she’d both been anticipating and dreading: the day she would find out whether she would be leaving Kirkwall with her Golden Boy, or if she would be leaving a piece of herself behind instead.

She shoved the thought away as she approached Rynne. The gamine brunette was sitting on a threadbare blanket beneath an old torn sail that Fenris and Anders had rigged up into a rough shelter, and she was bandaging the palm of a blushing older dwarven man. 

“Gloves, Yevhen,” she scolded. “You need to wear gloves. I don’t want to see you back here with more gashes in these manly palms of yours, all right?”

The dwarven man beamed at her as he rose to his feet, then bowed to her politely. “My thanks, Miz Hawke.”

She waved dismissively. “Please, it’s just Hawke! No need for formality when we’re sitting on our asses on the ground.”

He chuckled, then bowed to her once more before taking his leave, and Piper promptly plopped down beside her on the blanket. “Excuse me, Miz Hawke,” she said. “I’ve got an ailment that requires urgent attention.” 

Rynne tapped her chin mock-thoughtfully. “Let me guess. Are you sore from carrying around a long, hard sword all day?” 

Piper grinned. “Yes, in fact. The longer and harder the sword, the more sore you are the next day.” 

Rynne burst into raucous cackling, and Piper gleefully joined her. Once they had caught their breath, Piper lounged back on her palms and stretched her legs out. “You’re keeping busy here, hmm?” she said. 

“I certainly am,” Rynne said happily. “This is the first lull today, in fact. I think the dastardly Captain Mad Piper has scared my patients away.” She grinned at Piper. 

Piper laughed. “It’s probably for the best. I was going to offer to help you, but I would probably just fuck up all your good work.”

“That seems likely,” Fenris said. 

Piper looked up to see him standing over them with his arms folded. He raised an eyebrow at her. “I haven’t forgotten the time you tried to treat that wound on your ear by yourself.”

“Oh, neither have I,” Piper said cheerfully. She turned to Rynne and pointed out a scar on her left earlobe. “This was from a terrible fight with a sea serpent. Naturally, I got the better of the beast.”

Fenris snorted, and Rynne chuckled. “Looks like the beast was just trying to nibble your earlobe,” she said, and she wiggled her eyebrows playfully. “You sure it was a fight you were having?”

“Of course,” Piper replied. “But I didn’t tell you what sort of fight.” She winked. 

Rynne laughed, and Fenris shifted his weight. “Am I interrupting…?”

“No no, never!” Rynne said. 

“Yes,” Piper said at the same time. “No boys allowed in this clinic.”

Rynne tittered and pinched her arm, and Fenris shot Piper a flat look as he settled himself next to Rynne on the blanket. Rynne smiled at Piper as she rifled around in the crate of medical supplies that Varric had brought over from the Lady Luck. “I’m removing Fenris’s stitches, finally. He probably could have had them out a couple days ago, but we’ve been busy…” She turned toward Fenris with a small pair of scissors in hand, then carefully started snipping the stitches below his right shoulder. 

“We certainly have,” Piper agreed. Privately, she was feeling rather smug. She _knew_ Fenris had just been waiting to have Rynne remove his damned stitches. She tried to catch Fenris’s eye so she could tease him by making faces, but he was too busy staring at Rynne while she carefully tugged the tiny knots of thread free from his tattooed skin. 

_Fenedhis, he looks like a starving mabari,_ Piper thought in exasperation. In fact, his face looked strikingly similar to how Cullen had been gazing at _her_ for the past few days. 

Piper couldn’t decide if that was a good thing or a bad one – for herself or for Rynne.

 _These fucking men,_ she thought ruefully. Then Rynne sat back and smiled at Fenris. “There. All done,” she announced. “You’d better flex for me so I can make sure your arm is working properly.” She batted her eyelashes at him.

Fenris gave her a chiding look. “Is that standard protocol after removing stitches?” he said dryly.

“Of course it is,” Rynne said pertly. “You know what else is standard protocol? Standing up and doing a slow circle so I can check you out.”

Fenris scoffed and rose to his feet. “Now you are not even trying to be clever.”

Rynne widened her eyes. “What do you mean? I’m checking you out for wounds! What were _you_ thinking, you dirty boy?”

Fenris snorted and shook his head. “You are an idiot, Hawke.” He stepped out of the shelter.

“Only for you, Fenris,” she called after him. “Only for you.”

He waved over his shoulder as he walked away. Piper promptly turned to Rynne and gave her a very pointed look. “Well, _that_ was adorable. And sickening. When should I expect an invitation to the wedding?”

Rynne spluttered a laugh. “What? No! That was – I flirt with everyone that way. Nobody is safe from my extreme charms.” She gave Piper a coquettish look. “Are you jealous, Captain? I can flirt with you too, if you like.” 

Piper snorted and shoved her arm. “ _You_ might flirt with everyone, but Fenris doesn’t.”

Rynne raised her eyebrows skeptically. “That’s Fenris’s version of flirting?”

“He wasn’t ignoring you entirely or glaring at you like he was about to kill you, so yes,” Piper said. “That was Fen’s version of flirting.”

Rynne gave her a funny look, then laughed. “Well, it’s only because – he’s only…” She reached up toward the left side of her head, then hissed in pain as her fingers grazed the wound on her scalp.

Piper flinched on her behalf. “Careful,” she blurted. 

Rynne grimaced. “Ahh, I know. I keep going to tuck my hair behind my ear. Old habits die hard, I suppose.” 

“Right, right,” Piper said. She studied Rynne’s profile appreciatively. Rynne’s poor head had looked truly dreadful that first night of the fight, but at some point yesterday, she’d cut her hair even shorter than it was before. Her bangs were still long, but her hair was shorter than Fenris’s now on the sides and the back, and it all somehow served to make the nearly-shaven space over her left ear look like it was on purpose – aside from the stitched-up wound, of course. 

“Your hair looks really good,” she told Rynne. “Terrible head wounds seem to suit you well.”

Rynne laughed and fluttered her eyelashes. “Why, thank you. I’ll endeavour to get more head wounds in the future.”

“Please don’t,” Piper said flatly, and they both laughed. 

Then Rynne happily fluffed her bangs. “I’ll pass your compliments on to Fenris. He could give Anders a run for his money in the barber department, you know.” 

Piper gaped at her in surprise. “Wha– _Fenris_ cut your hair?” 

“Yes,” Rynne said. She grinned. “Why, did you think I’d done this myself?”

“Yeah, I did,” Piper said blankly. 

Rynne laughed. “No way. I couldn’t even cut my hair by myself that first time. If Fenris hadn’t come in–”

 _What?_ Piper held up her hands. “I – hang on. Fenris cut your hair the first time too?”

Rynne raised one eyebrow. “Yes,” she said slowly. “I didn’t tell you that?” 

Piper stared at her without answering. Fenris had willingly helped Rynne to cut her hair after only knowing her for two days? He’d willingly _touched_ another person in a non-combat situation after only knowing that person for two days? Fenris almost never touched anyone unless he was in a fight. It was one of the first things Piper had learned about him. 

Piper shuffled closer to her friend. “Rynne,” she said seriously. “Explain something to me. Why are you and Fen not fucking yet?”

Rynne’s face instantly went red and she burst out laughing, but Piper didn’t laugh. “Seriously,” she insisted. “I don’t mean to pry, and I know I’m being so rude, but–”

“No no, it’s fine,” Rynne chuckled. Her cheeks were still pink, but her smile looked genuine. “You can ask me anything, I honestly don’t mind. But there’s nothing to tell. We’re just friends.”

Piper gave her the most skeptical look she could muster. “Just friends. Just friends? Are you fucking joking?”

Rynne waved haphazardly and started tidying up the debris from Fenris’s stitches. “We’re just friends, I swear! He doesn’t want – er.” She cleared her throat. “Yes, just friends, that’s us.” She laughed nervously.

Piper raised her eyebrows. “Did he tell you he only wanted to be friends?”

Rynne winced and shrugged while wringing her hands nervously, then slumped in defeat. “I can’t say. I’m sorry, Pipes, I really want to, I feel like my head’s going to explode, but it’s not my place…” 

Piper tilted her head. “Fair enough. I’ll ask him about it later. But–”

“What? No!” Rynne blurted. “You can’t ask him, he’ll know I was talking about him!”

“He won’t know, I’m very sneaky,” Piper said impatiently. “Do _you_ want to be more than friends?”

“Obviously,” Rynne said. Then she clapped her hands over her mouth. “Fuck.” 

“Did you tell him you wanted to be more than friends?” Piper pressed on.

“Yes,” Rynne said. “I… argh.” She groaned and buried her face in her hands.

Piper sympathetically studied her, then leaned back on her palms once more. “Looks like we really are having the same problem, then.”

“Not really,” Rynne said sadly. “At least Cullen _wants_ to be with you.”

Piper tutted. “Don’t be stupid. Fen wants to be with you too. I’ve never seen him be so–”

Rynne suddenly squeezed Piper’s arm. “You know Cullen is going to stay on the Lady Luck, right?”

Piper glanced at her. Her amber eyes were wide with conviction. 

Piper laughed lightly and shrugged. “Ah, who knows,” she said casually. “Maybe he’ll stay here. He would make a very good admiral if they offer him the job. He’s all bossy and organized and everything.” 

“He’ll make an even better pirate,” Rynne said.

Piper ignored the twist of nerves in her gut. She wished she had Rynne’s certainty. 

She shot Rynne a quick smile and started to push herself to her feet. “Are you hungry? I can bring you something.”

“No, I’m all right,” Rynne said. “I ate not that long ago. Stay! Keep me company.” She waved for Piper to sit down again. “Tell me a story! Tell me about the sea serpent that nibbled your earlobe.” She smiled mischievously

Piper laughed and settled on the blanket once more. “Well, I’ll never say no to telling a story.” She held her hands up dramatically. “Picture this: the Lady Luck is sitting in the middle of the ocean, and the water is calm – too calm. Far too calm, considering the stormclouds brewing overhead…” 

She stayed with Rynne for some time, telling stories and making jokes and sharing gossip while Rynne treated a steady trickle of Lowtown residents with minor injuries. Eventually Rynne became too busy to talk and work at the same time, so Piper left her to her work. 

She wandered along the eastern docks, which were in slightly better shape than the ones to the west. A couple of the piers had been repaired enough for rowboats to pull in, and Piper helped the merchants to load and unload supplies for a while. The menial work was mindless and soothing, and it almost helped Piper to get her mind off of the mess she’d made in the courtroom at the Gallows. 

Some time later, when the noon sun was fierce, Piper took a break from her labour to find some shade. She leaned against a low stone wall overlooking the mouth of the bay and idly braided a lock of hair at her left temple, and she was so busy wondering what was going on with Cullen that she didn’t hear his approach.

“Piper?” 

She jumped, and her hand flew to the handle of her dagger even as she instantly recognized his voice. She laughed as he came around the wall to stand beside her. “Golden Boy!” she said. “Don’t tell anyone you got the jump on me. I’ve got a reputation to uphold.” She kept her eyes on the bay as she spoke; she was shamefully scared to look at his face. What was she going to find when she looked at him? What if he had that mopey-mabari look on his handsome face? What if his face was written with the truth that she’d been dreading all this time – the truth that he was going to stay here in Kirkwall? 

She stared at the bay and went back to braiding her hair. “So what’s the verdict? Is Meredith going to live the rest of her miserable life in the deepest dungeon you can find for her? Or is someone going to put her out of her misery?”

“I’m not certain,” Cullen said. “That will be up to the next Admiral to decide.”

She looked at him in surprise. “What…?”

She trailed off as she took in the expression on his face. He was smiling. He was _smiling._ Cullen was smiling, smiling from his scarred lips up to the corners of his cocoa-brown eyes, and his eyebrows… _fenedhis_ , even his eyebrows were lifted with his smile, and Piper’s heart shot straight into her throat. 

She forced herself to breathe. _Don’t assume,_ she thought. “Aren’t you… you’re not the Admiral now?” she asked cautiously. “I thought you’d be their first choice.”

“I was,” Cullen said. He took a small step closer to her. “I declined the offer. I have applied to resign from the Kirkwall Navy. They will have to review my application for approval, but since Cassandra is here, they can expedite the review. I’ve been told it will take about a week.”

 _Resign from the Kirkwall Navy._ Piper’s ears were ringing with disbelief and joy. “You’re quitting the navy?” she blurted.

He nodded. “If I am permitted, yes.”

Her belly jolted, and she swallowed hard. “What if they don’t let you?”

He grimaced slightly. “I am… trying not to think about that. But even if they refuse to let me go, I cannot stay with the navy any longer.”

Fen’Harel’s fucking cock. So that meant… If he was willing to leave the navy no matter what, then this meant…? 

She shyly ducked her head and continued furiously braiding her hair. She wanted this so badly, and she wouldn't believe it until he said it himself. “So… so, um. If you can’t stay with the navy, then, um...”

Cullen gently took her hands and pulled them away from her hair. Then he was tipping her chin up with one big strong hand, tilting her face up so she had no choice but to gaze at that big beautiful smile, and Piper couldn’t breathe. 

“Captain Lavellan,” he said softly. “If you would have me, I would be honoured to join the crew of the Lady Luck.”

She stared at him with a swelling of disbelief and excitement. Her heart was pounding in her ears and in her chest, pumping a breathtaking rush of joy through her veins, and – and he was going to join the Lady Luck! He was joining the crew, and they were going to be together, and–

Piper threw herself at him, flinging her arms around his neck and kissing him hard. He wrapped his arms around her and returned her kiss, and Piper relished the strength of his arms and the hard press of his chest as he lifted her off her feet. Then suddenly she was laughing, laughing with a giddy sort of relief, and Cullen laughed as well as he set her on her feet again. 

She cradled his face in her hands. “Such fucking manners, Golden Boy,” she teased. “That won’t do on the Lady Luck.” 

He chuckled. “I shall try to work on roughening my manners, then.” 

_Ooh_. That was a saucy remark. She beamed at him, then realized with a thrill that there was a genuine spark of uninhibited heat in his face. 

_Fenhedis,_ that heat. That quirk of his eyebrow. If he was committed now to staying on the Lady Luck – to staying with _her_... 

A shiver of anticipation ran down her spine. She leaned back against the stone wall and tilted her head coyly. “So we have to wait in Kirkwall for a week for the verdict, hm?”

“That’s right, yes,” Cullen said. “If you don’t mind the wait, of course.” He took a step closer to her and placed one hand on her waist, and Piper forced herself to breathe through a sudden rush of excitement. 

“Not at all, not at all,” she said breezily. She fluffed her hair. “What should we do in the meantime? Go shopping for hats in Hightown, maybe?”

“I’m rather tired, as you can imagine,” he said softly. “Would it be all right to return to the Lady Luck for some rest?”

She grinned at him. She knew exactly what he meant by ‘rest’, and it was exactly what she wanted too. 

She pushed herself away from the wall, and Cullen inhaled sharply as she pressed her hip against the firmness of his groin. “Back to the Lady Luck it is,” she said huskily. “You are a new recruit, after all. I have to break you in.”

His cheeks were flaming red, and his smile was embarrassed but broad. “As my Captain commands,” he murmured.

She grinned at his polite tone and his saucy words, then wrapped her fingers in his vest and pulled him down for another kiss. _Fenedhis,_ she liked hearing those words from his lips. 

And now that he was part of the crew, she would happily hear them every day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE END. 
> 
> HAHAHAH JK 100% LOL NOT BY A LONG SHOT BITCHES. Smut tomorrow!!! Stay tuned! 
> 
> I am [Pikapeppa on Tumblr,](https://pikapeppa.tumblr.com/) and our beloved genius artist and mastermind is [Schoute!](https://schoute.tumblr.com/)


	16. Tattoos

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW smut. I hope you enjoy, you salty sea dogs. ;) 
> 
> Also, for the purpose of this fic, I can’t be bothered to do a whole thing about contraception in this AU. As you are no doubt aware, contraception was woefully terrible IRL during the Golden Age of piracy, so let’s pretend that in our lovely pirate AU here, women take dragonthorn infusions for birth control, and Anders is a dab hand at whipping them up. The crew of the Lady Luck are a randy bunch, ok?

###  PIPER 

The dinghy ride back to the Lady Luck had never taken longer.

Piper attempted to make conversation with Cullen while he rowed the dinghy, asking for details about Meredith’s trial as they ever-so-slowly neared the ship, but half of what he said went in one ear and out the other. She was already antsy with anticipation, and the fact that he was so modestly dressed in his fucking conservative navy vest and shirt was only serving to make her all the more impatient to tear his clothes away. 

Once they set foot on the sparsely-crewed ship, Piper grabbed his hand and made a beeline straight for her quarters. She managed to wait until Cullen closed the door, then she pulled her shirt over her head and threw it on the floor. 

She shoved her hair back and faced him. “Now get over here and–”

She didn’t need to ask. Before she could finish her demand, his lips were on hers, and his hands were on her hips: his big strong swordsman’s hands, his thumbs sliding over her hipbones as he walked her backwards– 

Cullen pinned her back against the wall, and a rush of pure excitement flooded her limbs. He was pressed against her firmly, and Piper clenched her fingers in the collar of his shirt as his hands started to slide up along her ribs. 

His thumb skimmed over her nipple, and she broke away from his lips and arched toward him. “Fuck,” she gasped. “Cullen…” 

He lifted his hand away from her chest and pulled back to look at her, and Piper stared at him in total adoration. His eyes were wide and dark with lust, but a flush of pink was crawling up his neck toward his ears, and she grinned; clearly he was just as surprised by his own voracious behaviour as she was. 

He swallowed hard and gently cradled her cheek in one palm. “I’m – Piper, I… I apologize if I am being rough…” 

She laughed huskily. “Don’t. I like it,” she purred. She supposed she shouldn’t be surprised that he could be dominant; he was a navy commander, after all, and she’d already witnessed his bossy side in battle. But to see that side of him coming out here in her bedroom, after waiting for so long… 

He exhaled in relief. “All right. It’s just that… ah…” He trailed off distractedly, and Piper grinned at him; her fingers were working the buttons on his vest, undoing them swiftly until she reached his belt.

She shoved open the two halves of his vest and pulled his shirt out of his trousers before reaching for his belt, and he grabbed her hands. “Piper, wait,” he blurted. “I – you should know, it has been some time since I… since, er…”

“It’s okay,” she breathed. “It’s been a while for me too.” She arched her spine fitfully, wanting him to stop talking and just _touch_ her already.

His eyes widened, and he released her hands. “It has?”

She laughed. His surprise was so endearing. “I haven’t been with anyone since we met, Golden Boy. I didn’t want anyone else.” She reached for his belt again, and she managed to get it unbuckled before he took her hands once more. 

“Piper, please,” he said. His expression was tender when she met his eye, and he stroked her cheek once more. “There’s no need to rush. I would like to…” He cleared his throat. “I would like to, er, cherish this. So to speak. If I may.”

She beamed at him. How was he this precious, even when his cock was so hard that it was tenting his pants? “You don’t need to cherish it,” she told him. “I’m going to fuck you every day from now on. This will be the new routine.” 

His chest rose in a sharp inhale, and Piper gleefully took note of his reaction to her bawdy promise. She pulled her hands from his, then leaned back against the wall and lifted her arms overhead in a mocking stretch, lifting her petite breasts in the process.

His eyes fell to her breasts, and she smiled smugly. “Come on, Cullen,” she teased. “I know you want to take me. You’ve wanted this since that morning in Rialto. There’s nothing stopping you now.”

He gaped at her bare breasts for a moment longer, then smoothed a hand nervously down the front of his shirt before stepping back from her. “I… before we, er...” He cleared his throat and raised his eyes to her face. “I wanted to ask you something.”

She dropped her arms to her sides and eyed him in surprise. “What? What is it?”

He licked his lips, and Piper’s curiosity turned to eagerness again as his eyes skimmed the tattoos beneath her breasts. 

He took her hand and led her over to the bed, then coaxed her down to sit on the edge of the bed. “I want to know the story behind your tattoos,” he said. He kicked off his boots, then started pulling her boots off as well. “You mentioned that you add to them whenever you dock. I was hoping you could tell me all the places you’ve been.” 

He crawled onto the bed to kneel behind her, and she threw him an exasperated smile. “You want stories? Now?”

He carefully began gathering her hair and tucking it over her shoulder to expose her back. “I do,” he said softly. “I… I wanted to ask about your tattoos before. But I didn’t want to ask unless I could look at them without being, er… improper.” He trailed his fingers down the line of her spine, then lowered his lips to her shoulder. 

She inhaled shakily. His lips were sweet and soft, and his stubble was a faint delicious scratch as he trailed his mouth along her shoulder, and _fuck_ , did she ever want him to be improper. 

He nipped her shoulder very gently with his teeth, and her breath caught in her throat for a moment. “Fine,” she breathed. “I’ll tell you a story.” 

He pulled away with a smile, and she shot him a mock-stern look over her shoulder. “But first, you need to take off that navy shirt and vest. They’re driving me nuts.”

His eyes widened for a moment, then he chuckled. “That is more than fair.” He shucked the unbuttoned navy vest, then pulled off his shirt. 

Piper turned around to watch him while he pulled off his clothes. She already knew his chest was perfectly packed with muscle; she’d seen lovely glimpses of it from the clothes he’d borrowed during his time on the Lady Luck, after all. But finally being able to see his bare chest, with its dusting of hair and the ropes of muscle that guided her eager eyes toward his trousers…

She stared at him greedily, and he huffed in amusement and awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck. “I, er. I have some, er, scars…”

She flipped onto her knees and crawled toward him, and his eyes went wide as she straddled his lap. “So do I,” she said. “Want to see?” She leaned back and lifted her left arm, purposely pressing her breasts toward him in the process. “This one is from a sword fight. I needed thirteen stitches for that.” 

He swallowed hard, and Piper noticed with satisfaction that his eyes were on her nipples instead of her scar. She pressed her hips down against him, and he gasped. 

“P-piper,” he groaned. “Please, I…” He skimmed his hands up along her sides, making her breath go short and sharp with anticipation, and then–

She jolted toward him with a gasp. His tongue was trailing over her nipple, and then he was suckling her breast, and Piper sank her fingers into his gorgeous wavy hair to pull him closer to her chest.

His teeth pressed lightly into her nipple, and she mewled with pleasure and tried to press her hips down against the bulge in his pants, but he pulled away and looked at her. “Piper,” he begged. “I insist. Tell me the story of your tattoos.”

She gaped at him for a second, then laughed. She couldn’t help it. “You’ve got to be kidding,” she said. 

He smiled, but shook his head. “I’m not. Please, I… I want to hear the story. It will help me, er, control myself.”

She barked out another laugh. He was so fucking sweet. She leaned toward him and pressed her lips to his ear. “I’ll go down on you, then,” she whispered. “Let me suck your cock. Then you can fuck me for as long as you want afterwards.”

His fingers clenched on her waist. “Piper,” he said weakly. “This is not helping.”

“Then let me help,” she murmured. She ground herself against his lap. “Let me run my tongue along that thick, hard cock of yours. I’ll suck you hard and swallow every drop of you when you’re done.”

He made a frustrated, growly little sound – {fenedhis,} such a delicious sound – then lifted her off of his lap and flipped her onto her back. 

Piper propped herself on her elbows and grinned at him. He was kneeling between her legs now, and he was so flushed that the pinkness was creeping down his chest. “What’s the matter, Golden Boy?” she asked. “Pirate got your tongue?”

He breathed hard for a moment as he stared at her. Then he smiled sheepishly. “To be truthful, I haven’t, er, heard that sort of talk before.” 

She gaped at him in genuine surprise. “No one has ever dirty-talked to you before?”

He shook his head. Then his eyes went even wider. “Do you want me to do that?” he said faintly.

She threw her head back and laughed even harder than before. “You absolutely don’t have to,” she said. “But I’m happy to keep doing it if you like it.”

He ducked his head bashfully – he’d _obviously_ enjoyed it – and Piper laughed again. She sat up and cradled his face in her hands. “Hey. Don’t be shy. Just be yourself,” she said softly. “I want you to be comfortable.”

He met her eyes, and for a long, heart-pounding moment, she simply gazed into his meltingly warm chocolate-brown eyes. 

He let out a long, relaxed breath, then kissed her gently on the lips. “May I tell you what I’d like?” he whispered.

She grinned, and a flutter of anticipation took flight in her belly. “Of course.”

He grazed her lower lip with his thumb. “I want you to lie down and tell me about your tattoos,” he murmured. 

He was smiling now, and there was something distinctly mischievous in his face. She laughed again. “Now you’re just fucking with me,” she mock-complained. “But fine, if you insist…” She pushed herself off of the bed, then swiftly shucked her breeches and smallclothes.

Cullen’s smug little smile melted into shock, and Piper shrugged and twined her fingers coyly in her hair. “The tattoos go pretty low on my back,” she said innocently. “Thought you’d want to see all of them.” She crawled back onto the bed and slowly lay down on her stomach, being careful to arch her back as provocatively as possible before settling down. 

She glanced at him over her shoulder. His eyes were on her ass, and he looked utterly gobsmacked. 

_Good,_ she thought. She smiled sweetly. “Now what d’you want to know?”

Cullen gaped her naked body for a moment longer, then exhaled slowly and shifted closer to her on the bed. He cleared his throat, then trailed his fingers over the back of her neck. “Wh-when, er… how old were you when you began getting them?”

She settled her cheek on her folded arms. “I was fifteen,” she said. “Deshanna didn’t want me to start getting them until I was sixteen, but you know me. I do what I want.”

He scoffed. “Naturally.” He smoothed his fingers down the line of her spine. 

She smiled and stretched slightly as his hand skimmed over her shoulder blade. If she wasn’t so eager to fuck him, the slow stroke of his hands would actually be very soothing. 

“Where on your body was the first tattoo?” he asked.

“My lower back,” she said. “Just above my butt. I had the artists work their way up to the middle of my back, then I decided to have some work done on my neck and move… move down instead…” 

She trailed off. One of Cullen’s warm and callused hands was following the path that she’d described, skimming smoothly over her lower back and up before moving down from her neck. But his other hand… 

His right hand was resting on the back of her thigh, just below her butt. Just resting there, not doing anything at all, his fingers innocuously curled along the inside of her thigh. And that still and unmoving hand was gradually attracting all of Piper’s attention.

“Piper?” he said. 

“Huh?” she said dumbly.

“I said, where was the first port where you got a tattoo?” 

She swallowed hard. Had his hand on her thigh just moved a little higher? “Um,” she said. “It was, um… just off the coast of Denerim. Deshanna had, uh…”

Cullen’s hand on her thigh was definitely moving now. He slid his palm slowly up her thigh to skim over her bottom, then back down to her thigh once more. “Denerim?” he asked. “I didn’t know there were many pirates there.”

She inhaled shakily through her lips. He was slowly slipping his palm along her thigh and dipping his fingers into the space between her legs, and his thumb was stroking the tender skin along the inner edge of her thigh, and _fuck_ , she just needed him to touch her… 

She forced herself to exhale slowly. “There aren’t,” she said. “But there are a few, and Deshanna knew them. And damn, was he ever mad when he saw that they started inking my back.” She managed a semi-genuine laugh.

Cullen chuckled as well, then slid his fingers higher between her legs.

Piper gasped and arched her spine. His fingertips were pressing _very_ lightly against her sex. “Cullen,” she whined. 

He ran his other hand along the length of her spine. “Where did you have a tattoo done most recently?” he asked. 

She ignored his question and arched her back, then tried to spread her legs to coax his fingers deeper into her heat. “Touch me,” she demanded. 

He did as she asked – in a way. He kept his fingers teasingly light between her legs, but he bent over her back and kissed her shoulder blade. “Please, Piper,” he said. He kissed her spine. “I want to know more about your tattoos.”

She groaned in frustration and clenched her fingers in the blankets. “Touch me first, and then I’ll tell you,” she gritted. 

He huffed in amusement, then kissed her shoulder. “All right,” he murmured. Then he slid his fingers through her slick heat. 

She jerked and tried again to spread her legs, but it was difficult while lying on her belly. “Cullen,” she gasped. 

He didn’t reply, busy as he was with trailing his lips along the length of her spine. He stroked her gently, spreading her heat and teasing her folds, and _fenedhis,_ she just wanted him to run his fingers over her clit already…

She twisted wantonly on the bed, then gasped in a breath. “The last place I got a tattoo was in Rialto,” she whined. “Isabela worked on it. That was s-six months ago.”

He hummed against her lower back then ran the pad of his finger over her clit, and a warm ripple of pleasure rolled from the apex of her thighs down to her calves. 

She twisted her fingers in the covers. “Cullen!” she cried out. 

He removed his hand from between her legs. Before she could complain, his hand was pulling her hip and forcing her to roll over, and then she was flat on her back while Cullen settled himself between her legs. 

Piper stared at him. His cock was straining against his fitted trousers, and his eyes were fixed between her legs. 

He placed his palms on her thighs and lifted his gaze to her face. “Piper, may I–?”

“Yes,” she blurted. She lifted her hips shamelessly toward him. “Yes, yes, go ahead, _yes_!” 

He smiled, then shifted hastily down on the bed and slid her legs apart. Then his fingers were slipping between her legs again, spreading her slick warmth and lifting her excitement to an almost unbearable level, and then – 

Oh gods, his _mouth_. His mouth was between her legs. Cullen’s gorgeous scarred lips were between her legs, dropping tender open-mouthed kisses on her pussy as though he was kissing her lips, and his tongue was perfect and precise as it circled her swollen little clit, and Piper fell back on the bed and twisted blissfully beneath him. 

Without slowing the ministrations of his mouth, he lifted her legs over his shoulders and ran his palms along her thighs. His hands moved in a gentle caress, and the lapping of his tongue between her legs was careful and smooth, and Piper found herself relaxing into his touch, relaxing more than she would have imagined possible given how fucking _good_ he was making her feel.

Her climax was steadily building, growing and roiling more insistently with every gentle pass of Cullen’s tongue and every careful stroke of his lower lip. Soon she was gasping, fingers clenched in her own hair as the pleasure continued to grow and build, and suddenly she was there, hitting her peak as he laved her clit with the gorgeous heat of his mouth.

Piper let out an uninhibited cry of pleasure as the roil of heat between her legs splintered apart, sending shivers of heat through her body all the way down to her toes. She arched her hips toward him, and still he continued to kiss her sex carefully and gently until she settled back down onto the bed. 

Piper opened her eyes. Cullen was wiping his mouth on his hand, but as he met her eyes, he smiled.

“Are you all right?” he asked. 

His fucking smile… She felt half-drunk from the incredible orgasm he’d just given her, but he was smiling at her so tenderly like _she_ was the one who had just done something amazing, and despite the lust that was pounding through her veins, the affection that was pounding through her chest was even stronger.

She pushed herself upright and hooked her hand around his neck. “Get over here,” she said huskily.

His eyes widened as she pulled him onto the bed, and soon she was straddling him once more. She pressed her lips to his cheekbone and stroked his jaw. “Thank you,” she whispered.

“Please, there’s no n-need to thank...” He trailed off as she flicked open the top button of his trousers with her free hand. 

She kissed his ear. “Not for that,” she murmured. “Though I should thank you for that. It was amazing.” She grinned briefly at him, then grew serious again as she stroked his jaw. 

“Thank you for staying,” she said softly. “You didn’t have to. You could have stayed in Kirkwall and I wouldn’t have been mad. But you… you don’t know how much this means to me. It’s really…” She dropped her gaze, suddenly feeling nervous. 

He tipped her chin up to meet his eyes, and Piper swallowed hard at the naked affection in his face. “Thank _you_ ,” he said. “For wanting me here, and for believing in me.” He ran his knuckles gently along her cheek. “Piper, the faith you have had in me through all of this… It means more than I can say.”

She dropped her eyes and smiled. The tenderness in his face was making her feel oddly vulnerable, and it was on the tip of her tongue to make some flippant comment, but she forced herself swallow it down. 

She took a deep, slow breath, then shuffled closer on his lap and cupped his face in both hands. “I would do it again,” she told him seriously. “The fight on Estwatch and the fight in Lowtown and that fucking bitch Meredith… I would do it all again if I had to, Golden Boy. I’d do it for you.”

He swallowed hard, then wrapped his arms around her waist. “I love you, Piper,” he said. 

Her heart did a little flip of surprise and joy. She gaped at him dumbly, unable to speak through the happiness swelling in her throat. 

His cheeks started to pinken, and he tightened his arms around her. “I… I hope that is all right to say–” 

She kissed him, sliding her fingers into his luscious blond hair and pressing herself as close to him as she possibly could, and Cullen pressed his fingers into the bare skin of her back. A minute later, his trousers were on the floor and she was splayed across his lap once more, and Piper was panting against his lips as she slid her slick heat over his shaft.

His breaths were coming in sharp little moans, and Piper’s eager gaze darted lovingly from the longing in his face to the smooth length of his cock as it rose proudly from its dark golden nest of hair. She clutched his shoulders and undulated toward him, sliding over him until he was slick with her desire, then positioned herself over him. 

She met his eyes and hesitated. _I love you, too,_ she thought, but the words wouldn’t leave her lips. They were about to fuck, and she didn’t want him to think she was only saying it because of the sex – not that she’d ever said it to any other sex partner before, but that wasn’t the point–

He stroked her cheek. “Is everything all right?” he panted. 

She nodded. “Yes,” she breathed. Then she lowered herself slowly onto his smooth length. 

His mouth dropped open in rapture, and Piper met his groan of pleasure with a moan of her own. She ground her hips down on his, wanting to feel every inch of him flexing inside of her, and Cullen dragged his palms up her back. 

“P-piper,” he groaned. “I…” He broke off and took her nipple in his lips. 

“ _Yes,_ ” she mewled. She cradled his head in her hands, running her fingers through his lovely hair as she rode him with a gradually increasing speed, and it wasn’t long before Cullen’s hand was gripping her hip as he pumped into her with increasing fervour, his other hand braced on the bed for support. 

He lifted his mouth from her breast and moved to take her other nipple in his mouth, but Piper lifted his chin to kiss him instead. Then they were panting sharply against each other’s lips, her fingers in his hair and his fingers on her back as she fucked him with increasing urgency, and his breathing kicked into a sharp and pleasured gasp–

He shuddered beneath her and slid his hand into her hair. “Piper,” he moaned. 

She pressed her cheek to his and continued to ride him, drawing every last shiver of pleasure from his body until he relaxed beneath her. When they both grew still, he loosened his fingers in her damp hair and leaned away. 

He gave her an apologetic half-smile. “I hope that was all right,” he said quietly. “I didn’t want it to be over too quickly…”

She laughed and kissed his forehead. “Hush, you. You were perfect.” Then she gestured grandly at herself. “What about me? How did I do?”

He chuckled and stroked her hair. “You were perfect too,” he said softly. Then he cleared his throat. “You, er. You broke in your new recruit very well.”

Piper stared at him in surprise, then broke into raucous laughter. “You just made a dirty joke!” she crowed. “Fen’Harel’s cock, that’s the best thing that’s happened all day.”

He smirked. “I feel like perhaps I should be offended by that.”

She grinned and wrapped her arms around his neck. “I’m joking, of course,” she said. “But I do think I should put this in the captain’s logbook. ‘Former commander makes a post-coital off-colour joke’–”

“Piper, no,” he blurted. 

She laughed harder still, then squealed in delight when Cullen rolled over and pinned her beneath his body. “All right, all right!” she cackled. “No logbook entries about off-colour jokes.” 

He grinned and smoothed her hair back from her face. “Thank you,” he said. “I would hate to stage a mutiny this early in my time on the Lady Luck.” 

She beamed at him. He looked so happy, with a flush of sex in his cheeks and a sheen of sweat on his strong shoulders, and she couldn’t help but think about how this was only the beginning.

This was the beginning of something grand; she could feel it in her bones. Cullen was part of the Lady Luck now: part of the only place Piper had ever truly called her home. And now that he was here for good, the Lady Luck had everything. 

Now that Cullen was by her side, on her ship and in her arms, Piper had everything she wanted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Our DARLING DIVINE friend and reader Johaerys wrote a perfect and wonderful FenRynne oneshot called [The One She Runs To,](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20405398) and you should all check it out!! It's a perfect snapshot of time during that week when the crew were sailing from Rialto to Kirkwall, and I FULLY ACCEPT IT AS CANON. 
> 
> I am [Pikapeppa on Tumblr,](https://pikapeppa.tumblr.com/) and our resident artist and mastermind is the lovely and talented [Schoute!](https://schoute.tumblr.com/) xoxoxo


	17. Play Hard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More shameless Piperford smut. Read at work at your own risk. ;) 
> 
> This takes place the same afternoon/evening as the previous chapter.

###  CULLEN 

Piper poked a faint scar on Cullen’s right forearm. “What about this one? What happened here?”

He looked at the scar. “A dagger slash during a fight just off the coast of Alamar,” he told her. “I was the victor in that fight.”

“Obviously, since you’re lying here with me,” Piper purred. “Or under me, I should say.” She smirked and wiggled her hips. 

Cullen smiled. She was indeed sprawled across his chest with one of her legs tucked between his thighs, and if they hadn’t just finished making love, her playful wiggling would most certainly be making him rise to attention. 

“All right, it’s my turn,” he said. He stroked a whorl-like pattern on her left bicep with his thumb. “This pattern here. Where did you get this?” 

She peered at her arm. “That one, umm… that was from Highever.” She perked up and smiled at him. “Actually, that was the same week that I tricked Rylen and accidentally bashed him in the head with the jail cell door!”

Cullen coughed out a surprised laugh, then wrestled a stern look onto his face. “I don’t think you’ve ever apologized to him properly for that.”

“I have apologized!” she insisted.

He gave her a chiding look. “Without laughing?”

She opened her mouth to protest, then wrinkled her nose. “All right, fine. I haven’t. I’ll make it up to him.”

Cullen smiled and ran his hand along her arm again. “You’ll have to make it up to him before we leave Kirkwall next week, then.” He felt a brief pang in his chest at the thought of Rylen remaining in Kirkwall when he left. At some point during the intense activity of the past few weeks, Rylen had shifted from being Cullen’s most loyal lieutenant to a true friend, and Cullen would be genuinely sorry to say farewell to Rylen when he left with Piper on the Lady Luck at the end of the week.

“Mm-hmm,” Piper murmured. 

Cullen looked at her. She was trailing her fingers over his bare chest again, but her expression was oddly smug. 

Before Cullen could ask why she looked so cheeky, she shifted off of his body and traced her fingers over a long, puckered scar that ran just below his ribs to his left hip. “My turn again. Tell me about _this_ sucker. That’s got to have a story behind it.”

Cullen glanced at the scar. There was indeed a story behind this scar – a story that had haunted him for years. Up until he had made Piper’s acquaintance a year ago, in fact. 

He took a deep breath. “You recall I told you that I was once posted on a ship that was boarded by pirates?”

Her eyes darted to his face, her playful expression instantly growing serious. “Yes, of course,” she said. 

He nodded slowly. “That was… ten years ago, now. I was with the Fereldan Navy at the time. I was the quartermaster on a ship called the Kinloch.” He slowly traced the pattern on her arm with his fingers. “We were on a patrol near the northern tip of Rivain – a few days’ travel from Par Vollen, in fact. A dangerous patrol by any measure, but somehow we were still taken by surprise by a pirate ship out of Llomeryn. One of Ianto’s ships, in fact.”

Piper’s eyes widened. “Oh fuck,” she breathed. “Isabela’s had dealings with him. She said he and his thugs are a nasty bunch.”

Cullen nodded grimly. “We fought them as best we could. I killed their quartermaster, in fact. But in the end, the pirates defeated us. They scuppered the Kinloch and killed almost everyone on board. They took me prisoner.” He paused and shifted restlessly; this was the hardest part to talk about. 

Piper sat up and stroked his cheek. “Hey,” she said softly. “I didn’t mean to bring up something so shitty. If you’d rather not talk about it…”

“No, it’s all right,” he said quietly. He sat up in the bed beside her. “It’s… I should speak of it. I never… I should probably have spoken of it before. But… well.” He ran a hand through his hair. 

Piper took his hand in both of hers, and Cullen smiled faintly at her. Her expression was serious but determined, almost as though she was helping him to brace himself against the lancing of a wound. And really, he supposed that’s what this was, in a manner of speaking.

He took a deep breath, then launched into the story. “They took me prisoner for a month,” he said bluntly. “They tried to force me to join their crew as the new quartermaster, but I refused. They kept me locked in their prisoner bay. There were no windows.” He gestured to the scar on his hip. “I had this wound from the fight with the other quartermaster, and it… it didn’t heal well. They tried to treat it; they wanted to keep me alive in case I changed my mind, you see. But they didn’t have a doctor of Anders’ calibre on their ship. The wound got infected, and… truthfully, I don’t recall much beyond the first week or so.” He recalled the terrifying feeling of the walls closing in, and he strongly recalled the stench of his own unwashed body. But beyond that, it was a haze of timeless confusion and fear.

But Piper didn’t need to know that much detail.

He took a deep breath and looked around at Piper’s cabin, drinking in the colourful and cozy draperies and glass baubles hanging from the ceiling, and the blessedly large bay windows that looked out onto the sea. The Lady Luck was nothing at all like that pirate ship where Cullen had been trapped. 

He looked at Piper once more. Her eyes were wide and horrified, and her grip on his hand was hard. “Cullen,” she breathed. “I’m… so sorry. Of course you don’t like being in enclosed spaces after that.”

“Ah,” he said, and he let out a self-deprecating little laugh. “No, I… I’ve always disliked small spaces, even before I ever set foot on a navy ship. Being trapped on that pirate ship certainly didn’t help matters, though.”

She nodded and swallowed hard, then kissed his knuckles. “How did you escape?” she whispered. 

“The Fereldan Navy eventually captured the ship and saved me,” he said. “The pirates had taken a number of my comrades prisoner as well, but I was the only survivor.” 

“Fuck,” she whispered. 

He nodded somberly. “Thankfully, our doctor managed to treat the infection in my blood. I returned to my duties shortly after – with a promotion, in fact. I became the captain of a ship called the Bronach. But this unfortunate scar remains.” He gestured at his hip. 

“Wait,” Piper said. “They made you go back to work after that?”

Her voice was hard, and Cullen squeezed her hand soothingly. “They offered me compassionate leave,” he said. “I refused it. I wanted to return to my duties.”

She wilted and gazed sadly at him. “Cullen…”

He nodded. “I know. In retrospect, it was ill-advised. But everyone in the Fereldan Navy knew what had happened, and I didn’t want their pity. And… truthfully, I was angry. I wanted to…” He swallowed hard and gave her an apologetic look. “I wanted pirates to get their due punishment. And returning to my work seemed the best way to do that.”

Piper’s face was sad as she stroked his cheek, and Cullen sighed and kissed her palm before continuing his tale. “I was the captain on the Bronach for two years. When I caught wind of the problems Kirkwall was having with piracy, I applied for a transfer and a promotion within the Kirkwall Navy. I’ve been – er. I _was_ with the Kirkwall Navy for seven years before you and I met.”

“And you never took any kind of leave during any of that time?” Piper asked softly.

He shook his head. “I… truly, I buried myself in my duties. And it seemed to help. If I was tired enough by the end of the day, I didn’t have nightmares.”

She straightened. “You have nightmares? About… about that month?”

He studied her carefully, suddenly alert to the surprise in her face. “Yes,” he said. “Not commonly anymore. Not since I took up a landbound position in Kirkwall. But occasionally, yes.”

Her eyes were wide, and for a breathless moment, Cullen wondered if she was finally going to tell him about _her_ nightmares. 

Then she dropped her eyes to his hand and squeezed it again. “Well, everything’s different on the Lady Luck,” she said pertly. “Leave time is mandatory. We play as hard as we work here.”

Her tone was light and playful, and Cullen’s heart squeezed with a painful sort of fondness at her hidden vulnerability. “I remember,” he said softly. 

She met his eye with a smile, then sobered again and shifted closer to him. “I’m sorry for what you went through,” she said. “For what it’s worth, those are the kinds of pirates I would fucking put down, too.” She lifted her chin. “When you’re with me, you’ll get your chance to take down people like that. Especially Tevinter slaver ships. Those are my and Fen’s favourite prey.” 

Cullen smiled, but Piper wasn’t finished; she shifted onto his lap until she was straddling him, but her face was still serious. “No one will ever take you prisoner again. Not on my fucking watch,” she said fiercely. “I promise you that.” 

A burst of affection flooded his chest. Piper was so fiery and fierce, a qunari warrior’s worth of determination and fight packed into just over five feet of slender silver-haired elf, and Cullen loved her more than he’d ever loved anyone in his life. 

Without thinking, he reached up and cradled her neck in his palm, and she gasped. 

It was a tiny gasp, more a catching of breath in her throat than a sound of pain, but Cullen instantly withdrew his hand. “I’m sorry,” he blurted. Maker’s breath, he was careless. Touching her neck a mere two days after she’d been nearly strangled? What was he thinking? “I’m sorry, Piper, are you hurt–?”

“It’s okay,” she said. To his surprise, she was grinning. “You can put your hand back if you want.”

He raised his eyebrows. “You don’t mind if I touch your neck? Even after, er…?”

She nodded. “Actually, I _want_ you to touch my neck. It’ll make me feel more normal about this bullshit.” She gestured dismissively at the purpling bruises that encircled her slender neck.

He eyed the bruises cautiously. “Are you certain?”

“Yes,” she said firmly. “The more you make me forget the bruises are there, the better.”

He lifted his eyes to her face. Her hazel eyes were distinctly heated now, and she gave him a slow, catlike smile as he met her gaze. 

His manhood began to stir at the mere look on her face. “All right,” he said. “If you’re certain.” He reached up and traced the tips of his fingers along her jawline, then stroked the spot of bare skin just behind her ear. 

Her breath caught again – the same tiny sound as before, and this time Cullen recognized the excitement there. Gratified by her approval, he ran the edge of his thumb along the side of her throat. 

She turned her head to the side to encourage his touch, and Cullen ran his knuckles carefully along the tendon in her neck, savouring the smoothness of her skin beneath his knuckles. She released a slow, breathy little sigh, then gasped again as he ran his fingers along her collarbone. “You tease,” she breathed. 

“Mm?” he mumbled distractedly. She was arching her back slightly, pressing her perfect petite breasts toward him, and as he stroked her other collarbone, she arched toward him more insistently still. 

“Teasing me with your polite hands,” she said breathlessly. 

He looked at her in surprise. If he was teasing her, he certainly didn’t mean to. He was just… well, her skin was just so soft. And so tender with the terrible bruises. He just meant to… savour the feel of her beneath his hands. But if his hands were too polite for her… 

He sat forward. “Perhaps I’ll try something a bit less polite,” he said, and he turned her head to the side with a gentle hand on her jaw. 

She grinned as he turned her head. “That’s more like it–” She broke off with a gasp as Cullen pressed his lips just beneath the angle of her jaw. 

He kissed the spot again, then kissed the tender space where her hairline sprang to life just behind her ear. “Tell me if I hurt you,” he murmured. 

“So far, you’re fine,” she whimpered. 

Then he tasted her skin with his tongue, and she jerked her hips and gasped. 

His manhood was at full alert now, and it pulsed in response to the jerking of her hips. He exhaled heavily against her neck, then trailed his lips carefully along the taut line of her neck and down toward her collarbone. 

She clenched her fingers in his shoulders and arched her back fiercely. “Cullen,” she whined. 

He stared at her pearled nipples for a moment, then curved his fingers just beneath her breast and licked her collarbone. She whimpered and pressed her hips down, grazing his manhood with the precious warmth between her legs, and Cullen dragged in a laboured breath before speaking. 

“Will you turn around?” he pleaded.

She grinned at him. “Ooh. Are you looking to take control, Commander?” 

His ears went hot, and he gave her a chiding smile. “I am not the commander anymore,” he reminded her. “And I… I want to kiss the back of your neck. If I may.” 

Her grin widened even further, but she slid off of his lap and kneeled beside him. “So polite,” she teased as he slid out of the covers to kneel behind her. “I wonder if I can get you to shake those manners off.” She lifted herself onto her knees, then sank down onto her heels and arched her back. 

Cullen’s shameless eyes dropped to her bottom, and he stared more gormlessly still as she slid her knees apart slightly. Then she slowly pulled the wavy curtain of her silver hair over her shoulder, exposing her back to his gaze. 

“Kiss my neck, then,” she said. 

Cullen took a deep, calming breath, then moved close to kneel right behind her. He ran his palm over the artistic expanse of her shoulder blade, then dropped his lips to her shoulder. 

She craned her neck to the side, and Cullen happily followed her wordless cue, trailing his lips along the line of her shoulder toward her neck until he found of the border of the bruises there. He carefully stroked the brutal lines of the bruises on her neck, wishing that he could wipe them away with a gentle touch, but lacking such an ability, he simply pressed his lips to her neck instead. 

She inhaled sharply, then released a slow and happy exhale, and Cullen smiled against her skin before slipping his fingers into her hair, gently tugging it to the side to expose the unblemished nape of her neck. 

He pressed his face to the back of her neck and breathed in the herbal scent of her hair. She smelled of delicious warm skin and the fine herbal soap that sat by her wash basin, and Cullen closed his eyes for a moment to appreciate the intoxicating fragrance. 

Then Piper pressed her bottom back toward him, and his eager shaft slid against the small of her back.

He exhaled sharply at the exquisite touch of her skin. She arched her back again and rubbed against him, and Cullen whimpered helplessly and nipped the back of her neck. 

She gasped. “You like that, do you?”

He swallowed hard. His shaft was pulsing eagerly thanks to the tantalizing softness of her skin, and he wasn’t quite sure how to respond. 

So he didn’t speak. Instead, he placed one hand on her hip and nipped the curve of her neck with his lips. 

She released a pleasured little moan and gripped his hand. “I’ll take that as a yes,” she breathed.

He didn’t reply. He couldn’t. The skin of her back was so soft against his manhood, and she smelled so lovely and her raspy pleasured voice was rough but also lovely, and he wanted to hear more of it. 

He slid his hand from her hip over her belly, and the muscles of her belly went taut with anticipation as he slipped his hand lower, thumb grazing her navel before the tips of his fingers dipped between her legs– 

She arched her back and tilted her head back with a cry, and when Cullen stroked her exposed neck with his free hand, she cried out again. “Creators, _yes!_ ” 

He inhaled shakily and fought to control himself as he slid his fingers along her folds. She was slick and warm, and he knew the taste of her on his tongue and the scent of her on his lips, and he badly wanted the feel of her surrounding him and taking him deep. But more than that, he wanted to _hear_ her. 

He stroked her smoothly until she was riding his fingers, then pressed the tip of his finger gently against her swollen little bud, and she dug her nails into his wrist. “Y-yes!” she whimpered. “Cullen, yes, just…” 

She trailed off with a whimper. Then she was arching again, and his manhood was grazing her back just above the tempting cleft of her bottom, and Cullen fought to keep his attention on the heat between her legs. She was rolling her hips toward his hand in a smooth wavelike motion, reminding him forcibly of the ocean that she navigated so confidently, and he panted against her shoulder, listening to the growing desperation in her breathing as he stroked her–

Then she threw her head back against his shoulder and cried out, and Cullen gasped as her nails dug into his wrist once more. She was riding his fingers fiercely and moaning with unabashed rapture, and he listened raptly until the symphony of her cries faded to a pleasured whimper. 

She released his wrist, then pushed his hands away and bent forward at the waist, and Cullen gaped at her as she slid her legs apart and exposed herself to him.

She tossed her head and looked over her shoulder at him. “Fuck me,” she commanded. 

A roar of approval poured through his veins and straight to his throbbing manhood. He moved closer to her and stroked her back, and she arched her spine even more deeply. “Come on, Golden Boy,” she invited. “Give me your cock. I know you want to.”

Her provocative words, her raspy voice, the inviting look in her eye: it all melded together in the most exquisite mixture of desire and tenderness and _want_. Before Cullen could muster any words to reply, his hands were on her hips and he was sliding his manhood through the slickness between her legs, and she was twisting her hips to bring him closer, and then – Maker’s breath, then he was sliding inside of her, sheathing himself inside of her exactly as she’d asked.

She mewled and pressed her cheek to the bed, and Cullen gasped fitfully as he hilted himself inside of her. Then she wiggled her hips pleadingly. “More,” she begged. “Fuck me, Cullen. I need you.”

He exhaled heavily. These words she spoke, these rough words of lust that were both command and plea at once: her words riled him, lifting an unrestrained sort of want that he hadn’t really felt this strongly before, and he wanted nothing more than to follow her commands. 

He reluctantly withdrew from her heat, then sheathed himself more forcefully than before, and she cried out and pounded her fist on the bed. “Yes!” she cried.

Her unequivocal affirmation: _that’s_ what he really wanted. He pulled back and gave himself to her in another hard stroke, eliciting another beautiful breathy cry from her injured but recovering throat, and it wasn’t long before they found a rhythm together, a hard rhythm with his hands on her hips and her fingers clenched in the sheets as she pushed back to meet his every thrust. 

But he soon realized that he wanted something more. He didn’t just want the sound of Piper’s cries and the feel of her heat surrounding him. The arch of her tattooed spine was beautiful, but it wasn’t enough. 

He withdrew from her completely, and she mewled with distress and pushed herself onto her elbows. “What’s wrong?” she panted. “Are you–”

He grasped her hips and flipped her over, and she gasped in surprise as her back hit the bed. Then she burst out laughing as Cullen crawled over her and settled between her legs.

She grinned and twined her arms around his neck. “You really are being the boss tonight, aren’t you?” she teased. 

He lowered himself to his elbows and cradled her shoulder blades in his palms. “I want to look at you,” he told her earnestly. 

Her cheeky grin softened and melted into something infinitely more tender. She cradled his neck in her palms. “You sweet man,” she murmured. “Kiss me.”

He smiled at her, then lowered his lips to hers. Without breaking from the sweetness of her lips, he reached down to position himself, then lifted her thigh and slid himself inside of her.

He gasped longingly as her heat enveloped him. Piper gasped as well and nipped his lower lip, and Cullen grunted and flexed his hips instinctively at the nip of her teeth.

“Oh gods!” she blurted. She stretched her arms over her head and twisted her fists in the pillows. “Cullen, fuck me hard–”

He pumped his hips forcefully, and she threw her head back into the pillows with delight, and Cullen thrust into her eagerly, his eyes fixed on her beautiful face as it twisted with rapture. With every meeting of their hips, his own rapture was rising and growing, spreading from his manhood to his thighs and his abdomen and his throat. As his climax continued to rise, he reached up and cradled her neck in his palm. 

Her eyes flew open to meet his gaze, and the unequivocal joy and lust in her face was so clear that it stopped him for a moment. Piper breathed heavily, then grinned at him. “You all right?” she panted. “Pirate got your tongue again?”

 _Yes,_ he thought. Piper had caught his tongue and his wits and his pounding heart, and being here with her – being twined between her legs on the twisted mess of her sheets – it was more wonderful than anything he’d ever dared to imagine. 

He smiled at her, then stroked her cheek with his thumb before pressing inside of her once more and grinding his hips hard into hers. Her mischief-maker’s grin melted into an expression of utter pleasure, and Cullen continued to thrust into her, maintaining a steady rhythm that pulled his pleasure higher while pulling those beautiful mewling cries from her throat. Just as his climax was about to strike, she grasped the back of his neck and pulled him in for a kiss, and he groaned his pleasure into the sweetness of her tongue. 

As the final ripples of pleasure trickled away from his limbs, he closed his eyes and relaxed, dropping his face against her neck to breathe in her scent. She ran her fingers gently through his hair, and for a time they simply lay together in a lazy silence. 

Eventually she let out a breathy little laugh. “I suppose we should go back to Lowtown and tell the crew that we’re staying here for a week,” she said.

He nestled his face more securely against her neck and didn’t reply, and she giggled and wrapped her legs around his waist. “What, you don’t like that idea?” she said playfully. “You’d rather stay right here in the captain’s cabin for the whole week, wouldn’t you?”

He hesitated, and Piper threw her head back and laughed brightly before fondly patting his cheek. “You feel guilty even saying it, don’t you?”

He grumbled against her neck, then sighed and lifted his face. “It’s your duty as the captain to inform your crew…” 

She grinned and stroked his cheek. “Yes, it is. And then we’ll come right back here and fuck like nugs for the rest of the week. Does that sound good to you?”

He winced guiltily. “Would it be terrible if I admit that I like that plan?” 

She laughed again. “Not at all, Golden Boy. Consider it captain’s orders.” She settled back on the pillows and gazed at him. Her hazel eyes were golden in the lamplight, and her face was soft and affectionate. 

“You can say what you want now, Cullen,” she assured him softly. “Everyone has their duties, but everyone also gets a say. I just want everyone to be happy.” She smoothed a strand of hair back from his face. “You’re one of mine now. I’ll take care of you.”

He smiled back at her. Piper might be the captain, but that didn’t mean she didn’t need someone to take care of her as well, whether she would ever admit it or not. 

He gently ran a finger along the wicked bruises on her throat, then dipped his head to kiss her smiling lips. Now that Cullen was here, he would take care of Piper in whatever way she would allow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FenRynne tomorrow, I think!!
> 
> I am [your friendly neigbourhood Pikapeppa,](https://pikapeppa.tumblr.com/) and our INSANELY TALENTED ARTIST is [Schoute!](https://schoute.tumblr.com/) xoxox


	18. Want

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOW THAT YOU’RE ALL FULL OF PIPERFORD FEELS AND WELLBEING, here: have some angst. Also NSFW. It’s... well, you’ll see.

###  RYNNE 

The rowboat slid smoothly through the river toward the shore, and Rynne wiggled with excitement. “This is so thrilling!” she said. “I’ve always wanted to come to Sundermount, but I was–”

“–never allowed to come on the hunting trips with your brother and the other men. I know,” Fenris said patiently. 

She held up one cautionary finger. “Not that I wanted to hunt, mind you. It always seemed like a rather macabre sport. But to come out in the wilds?” She took a deep breath and savoured the forest-y scent of the air, then smiled at Fenris over her shoulder. “ _This_ is something I always wanted to do.” 

He gave her a tiny half-smile, and she beamed at him before turning around to admire the craggy foliage-covered foothills of Sundermount. Piper had informed the crew this morning that the Lady Luck would be staying near Kirkwall until Cullen knew if he was allowed to resign from the navy. As soon as Rynne realized they’d be staying for a week, the first thing she wanted to do was something she’d never been allowed to do before. 

Hence this impromptu camping trip to Sundermount. Rynne had never been to Sundermount before, nor had she ever slept in the woods before, and she couldn’t wait. There had to be a first time for everything, right?

It seemed that Rynne wasn’t the only one for whom this trip was a first, however. “I have never been here, either,” Fenris said. He pulled smoothly on the oars, bringing them closer to the shore with every strong stroke. “It’s my hope that we won’t run afoul of any hunting parties during this… camping trip.” 

She smirked at his skeptical tone. “I still think it’s funny that camping is a foreign concept to you.”

He shot her a more deeply skeptical look. “It’s not. What’s foreign to me is the fact that you humans consider this to be a recreational activity. This is the way that Dalish elves live.”

“That’s right,” Merrill piped up cheerfully. “Well, we had aravels – er, caravans instead of tents, mostly, but yes. My clan used to pack up and move every two or three weeks. Staying here for two nights will be simple as pie, Hawke, you’ll see.”

“Good thing you’re the cook,” Rynne said ruefully. “Pie is not so simple for some of us lowly crew members.”

Merrill giggled. “Oh, Hawke, don’t you worry. It will be fine, I promise.” She smiled at Rynne and Fenris. “Thank you for inviting me to come, by the way! It’s been ages since I was last here.”

“Thank you for accepting the invitation,” Fenris said politely. “I figured it best to have a knowledgeable guide to the area.” He shot Rynne a brief pointed glance.

She winked at him. “As always, you know best,” she said. Secretly, she was perhaps a teeny-tiny little bit disappointed that she and Fenris weren’t on this trip alone. But only a tiny bit. Especially since it wasn’t like they needed privacy for any reason. In fact, privacy was the last thing they needed. They were just friends, after all. Friends didn’t need to be on their own. And Merrill was a friend! The more the merrier.

Oblivious to Rynne’s guilty thoughts, Merrill was happily chatting away. “Oh, I’m happy to come! I’m hoping to find some artifacts while we’re here. You know, my people lived on Sundermount for many years before… er.” She gave Hawke a shifty look.

Rynne frowned quizzically, and Fenris bluntly finished Merrill’s sentence. “Before humans sailed here and started conquering the elves,” he said.

Merrill grimaced, and Rynne grimaced as well before patting her hand. “It’s all right, Merrill, we humans are rather terrible. Go on, tell me more about Sundermount when the elves were here.”

Merrill perked up. “Well, the elves once lived everywhere on Thedas, from the northern end of Tevinter all the way to the Emerald Graves. Everyone lumps the Dalish together now, but the truth is that we were once very different clans, with different languages and hunting practices and everything. But all the elves shared one thing in common: they believed in the same gods. The elvhen pantheon of old.”

Rynne nodded in genuine interest, but Fenris snorted skeptically. When Merrill shot him a resentful look, Rynne frowned. “What’s wrong? What’s going on?”

Merrill pursed her lips primly. “Fenris doesn’t believe in the elvhen gods.”

“I am indifferent about the elvhen gods,” Fenris corrected. He looked at Rynne. “And I don’t believe the ancestral elves all believed in the same set of gods.”

Merrill shrugged unconcernedly. “You can believe whatever you like.”

“I appreciate that,” Fenris said slightly acidly. He doggedly continued rowing the boat, and Rynne tried not to stare too obviously at the lovely veins in his forearms as he rowed.

“Are you religious, Fenris?” she asked.

He shot her a slightly suspicious look, then relaxed. “Not particularly, no,” he said. He glanced at her briefly. “And yourself?”

“Not at all,” Rynne said cheerfully. 

He and Merrill both raised their eyebrows. “Really?” Merrill said. “You might be the first human I’ve ever met who doesn’t believe in the Maker. Not that I know any humans aside from the crew.”

Hawke batted her eyelashes playfully. “Why, Merrill. Are you calling me special?”

Merrill tittered. “Of course you’re special. But I am surprised.”

“As am I,” Fenris said. “What makes you so certain that there is no Maker?”

Rynne eyed him curiously. He seemed very interested in her answer, considering he’d just said he wasn’t particularly religious himself. “Well, maybe there is a Maker, who knows?” she said breezily. “It seems rather implausible to me, though. And I never liked the idea of some vague unseen man controlling my fate. I like to think I’m responsible for the things that happen in my life. If something good happens, it’s because I did something to make it happen. If something bad happens, I can fix it.”

He raised an eyebrow and pulled the oars. “And if you can’t fix it? If you encounter some misfortune that you can’t repair?”

“There’s always a way to make things better,” she said. “Even if it takes years before the opportunity comes along.” 

He frowned at her. "That’s… very optimistic of you, Hawke.”

His broody reaction was confusing her a little, but she smiled nonetheless. “That’s me,” she said. “An eternal bundle of sunshine.”

“That’s true!” Merrill said. “You are very bright and cheerful.”

Rynne smiled at her, but she was distracted by Fenris’s expression. He was frowning at her still, but there was a softness in his expression that made her throat feel oddly tight.

Thankfully, the small rowboat slid softly into the shore a moment later. Merrill hopped out of the boat and promptly started pulling it further onto the sandy shore. In the space of a few efficient minutes, Fenris and Merrill had tied the rowboat to a wooden stake that they’d driven into the sand, and Fenris offered Rynne his hand to help her out of the boat. 

Her fingers were itching to take his hand, but she forced herself not to. Ladies needed help getting out of boats, and Rynne wasn’t a lady anymore. “It’s all right, I’ve got it,” she said, and she climbed out of the boat into the shallow water before turning confidently to face him. “Now, what can I carry?”

He raised his eyebrows slightly, then climbed back into the boat. “Take this.” He picked up a hefty seabag of supplies and held it out to her. 

The seabag was half as tall as her, and probably almost half as heavy. She eyed Fenris’s expectant face for a moment, then belligerently held out her arms. 

He smirked slightly as he handed her the seabag, and she forced her face not to betray how heavy it was as she took it in her arms. She waded to the shore and placed it on the sand before returning to the boat, and she couldn’t help but give Fenris a _so-there_ sort of look as she held her arms out for the next bag.

The corner of his lips quirked very slightly, and she grinned as he handed her a smaller and more manageable haversack. A few minutes later, they were strolling toward the mountain with Fenris carrying the large and heavy seabag over one shoulder while Merrill and Rynne carried smaller haversacks.

Fenris was inspecting the rugged landscape, and Rynne elbowed him. “We can trade bags if you want,” she said casually. “That one looks a bit heavy for you.”

He huffed in amusement, but continued scanning the landscape. “Watch your surroundings, Hawke. It is quiet now, but there could be hunters.”

“Not very likely at this time of year,” Merrill said. “It’s wyvern mating season. Wyverns are all holed up in their nests.” She smiled. “It makes this the perfect time for camping. No wyvern threats, no hunter threats. As long as we don’t disturb their nests, we should be all right.”

Fenris raised his eyebrows. “Ah. Fair enough.”

Rynne smiled up at him. “You’re a real city boy, aren’t you? That’s something we have in common.” 

“I wouldn’t call myself a… ‘city boy’,” he said. “But yes, I was raised in the city. The only times I went beyond the bounds of Minrathous was when my master took me to – mm.” He broke off with a frown, then didn’t speak any further. 

Rynne looked at him quizzically, curious about what he’d started to say. Merrill, meanwhile, gave him a sympathetic look. “I think it’s sad that you couldn’t leave the city, Fenris. There’s so much of our people’s history to be found in the places that humans haven’t touched.”

“And what places are those?” he said skeptically.

“Places like here!” Merrill said, with an expansive wave at Sundermount. “And places in the Emerald Graves. There are legends of old elvhen ruins that have been untouched for centuries. Can you imagine the history we would find there?”

Fenris grunted. “Likely treasure, as well. Tell the Captain. Perhaps she will plot a course for one of these ruins.”

“Oh, no, we can’t plot a course,” Merrill said earnestly. “We don’t know where they are. They’re hidden, you see. The stories say that there’s ancient magic protecting them from prying eyes.”

Fenris sighed. “Stories of magic. Of course.” 

Rynne frowned at him. Why was he being so discouraging? 

Fortunately, Merrill didn’t seem deterred by Fenris’s attitude, or perhaps she was simply used to it; either way, she ignored his tone and smiled at Rynne. “Would you like to hear a story of the elvhen gods, Hawke?”

“I would love to,” Rynne said. She linked her arm with Merrill’s and shot Fenris a reproving look.

He shrugged bad-temperedly, but didn’t protest as Merrill launched into her tale. “I’ll tell you about the most fearsome of the elvhen gods,” she said enthusiastically. “His name was Fen’Harel, the Dread Wolf. He was the trickster god, and he loved making mischief for those who didn’t respect him. If ever you see an ancient statue of a wolf, you must leave an offering, or forever fear that Fen’Harel’s misfortune will fall on you one day.” 

Fenris _harrumph_ ed. Rynne poked him in the arm. “Hush, you,” she scolded, then turned to Merrill again. “Go on, Merrill.” 

Merrill’s eyes were wide as she led them up the craggy dirt path toward the forested foothills. “The legends say that Fen’Harel roams the seas, howling for revenge for his lost lady. He searches all day long to find her, and he howls throughout the night, creating enormous storms that could swallow any ship in a single wave.” 

Rynne raised her eyebrows. “Oh my,” she said. “Who is this lost lady who inspires so much, er, devotion?”

Merrill gave her a mysterious smile. “Nobody knows for sure,” she said. “Some stories say it was the goddess Ghilan’nain, and others say it was the goddess Sylaise. Other stories say it was an elvhen girl so clever and fair that she captured Fen’Harel’s heart. But she was stolen away by humans, never to be seen again.”

“The last option seems most likely,” Fenris said. 

Rynne turned to him with a grin. “Look who’s listening to the story after all,” she teased.

He clicked his tongue. “I haven’t much choice. I can’t very well escape this conversation.”

Rynne winked at him, then turned to Merrill once more. “So let me get this straight. Fen’Harel is… a salty sea dog?”

To Rynne’s delight, Fenris snorted in amusement. Merrill tutted and poked Rynne’s arm. “Oh, Hawke. I suppose you could say that, yes. But he’s a fearsome one, and he’s not to be trifled with. In fact, there’s a monument to Fen’Harel here on the mountain. I can show you later if you like.”

Rynne perked up. “Yes, please!” she said. “That sounds fascinating. I’ll need to make sure I have something to offer, though.” She blinked innocently at Fenris. “I don’t suppose you could lend a girl a silver?”

He scowled. “Absolutely not,” he said. “That is a waste of coin.”

She grinned. She knew he’d refuse to give her an entire silver; she just wanted to see that adorable scowl. “How about a copper, then?” she wheedled.

He pursed his lips. “Perhaps,” he said reluctantly. “It is still a waste, though.” He looked at Merrill. “We should find a place to set up camp.” He looked around cautiously at the shrub-and-grass-lined path. “Someplace a bit more… sheltered, perhaps?” 

“Of course,” Merrill said affably. “I know just the place. It’s about an hour's walk uphill.”

Fenris nodded, and Rynne grinned teasingly at him. “Are you sure you can carry that big heavy bag for another hour?”

He huffed and raised an eyebrow at her. “I could carry _you_ for that long if necessary.”

 _Ooh._ Now that was a nice thought. Suddenly she remembered how he’d scooped her off her feet in Lowtown when she’d pretended to be faint — those lovely bare arms of his picking her up so easily like she weighed nothing. He really was stronger than he looked, wasn’t he? 

Her stomach did a little flip, and she tried to ignore it. Fenris had only scooped her up that time because he thought she was going to fall down.

He cleared his throat. “I could carry you over my shoulder, that is. Like this bag.” He shot her a shifty look. “It would be undignified and… difficult for you to talk.”

He looked uncomfortable. It seemed that Rynne’s amorous thoughts were too obvious. She sighed internally, then shot him a wicked smile. “Is that a threat?” she asked. “Trying to shut me up, are you?”

He glanced at her again, then relaxed slightly. “Don’t tempt me, Hawke.”

She beamed at him. His lips were curled in the faintest hint of a smile, and that tiny hint of amusement made her heart flutter.

Unfortunately.

She forced herself to return her attention to Merrill. “You mentioned some other goddesses? Sylaise and Ghilan… err…?”

“Ghilan’nain,” Merrill supplied.

“Yes, that’s it,” Rynne said. “Who were they, then? Part of Fen’Harel’s harem, I presume?”

Merrill chuckled and poked her arm. “No, no. Sylaise was the goddess of the home and hearth, and Ghilan’nain was the mother of the halla…” 

They continued their way up the base of Sundermount, which became more thickly forested as they rose in elevation. Merrill’s campsite was a clearing in a copse of tall verdant trees, and by the time they arrived there late that afternoon, Merrill had given Rynne a rundown on all nine of the elvhen gods, and Rynne had guiltily forgotten the names of half of them. 

Merrill patted her shoulder comfortingly while they set up the tent she and Rynne would share that night. “It’s all right, Hawke. The more stories I tell you about them, the better you’ll remember.”

“Perhaps there is other information you should be focusing on instead,” Fenris called out. “Such as how to light a fire.”

“Ooh, the handsome one has a point,” Rynne said to Merrill. “I’ll be back.” She darted over to the rough firepit that Fenris had dug and kneeled in the dirt beside him. 

He held out his hand. In his palm were a rough-looking rock and a curved piece of metal. “Take these,” he said. 

She took them and batted her eyelashes playfully. “A present? For me? You shouldn’t have.”

He gave her a chiding look. “Flint and steel. They are a necessity for any pirate. Keep these on your person at all times.” He took a second set of flint and steel from one of his own pouches, then held them over one of the flatter stones that bordered the firepit. “You’ll strike the steel against the stone to make a spark. Strike quickly and forcefully, and do not hesitate…” 

He demonstrated while he spoke, and Rynne wistfully watched the shifting tendons in his hands as he handled the flint and steel. It only took seconds before the little scrap of charred cloth on the stone caught fire.

She raised her eyebrows. “You made that look easy.”

“It is easy,” he said. He tamped out the sparks, then sat back on his heels. “Try it.” 

She took a deep breath, then nodded determinedly. “All right,” she said. “Make a fire. I can do that.” She licked her lips, then held the flint and steel over the little piece of charred cloth.

She hesitated for a moment, then tentatively struck the stone with the steel.

No sparks rose. “Strike harder,” Fenris said. 

She nodded, then tried again, to no success. Fenris shifted closer to her. “Harder, Hawke,” he said reprovingly, and he took her hands. 

Rynne bit her lip. His hands were brisk and perfunctory as they molded hers into the appropriate grip, but they were still _his_ hands, and they were touching her.

He frowned at her, oblivious to her foolish wistful thoughts. “This is how you strike the flint.” He moved her steel-holding hand in a brisk, sharp motion against the stone.

A spark landed on the charred cloth, and Fenris looked at her again. “Do you feel that?” he asked.

He was frowning still, and his face was a mere few inches from hers. He was so close, so fucking close but so far from her reach, and his torturous nearness made her heart pound with longing. 

_I certainly feel something,_ she thought sadly, but she pushed the mopey thought aside and nodded pertly. “I’ve got it,” she said confidently. “I can do it now.”

He released her hands and tamped out the glowing ember he’d struck, then nodded his head at the charred cloth. “Go on, then.” 

She carefully struck the flint, and a perfect spark landed on the char. Rynne clapped her hands and looked at Fenris expectantly. 

Fenris nodded approvingly. “Now place it on the tinder. Blow gently until it lights on fire.”

She followed his instructions dutifully, and a few minutes later, they had a lovely fire going. Fenris sat back and wrapped his arms loosely around his knees. “Good. You’ll do this next time without any cueing.” 

Rynne nodded agreeably, then glanced at the tents as she settled herself beside him. Merrill was puttering around in the tent she would share with Rynne tonight. 

Rynne turned to Fenris and lowered her voice. “How come you hate Merrill’s ancient elvhen stories so much?”

He raised his eyebrows. “I don’t hate them.”

Rynne gave him a skeptical look, and he scowled. “I _don’t_ hate them. I simply think they’re… frivolous.”

She tilted her head curiously, and Fenris sighed before elaborating. “Merrill calls her stories ‘history’ when there is no proof to show the elvhen gods existed. She and the rest of the Dalish have an attachment to such stories that enslaved elves can ill afford.”

Rynne shifted a bit closer to him. “But she’s just telling the stories for fun. To me, at least. I’m not an elf, and I can still enjoy them.” 

He frowned at her. “These stories are not just stories to her. She means it when she says she is searching for artifacts. She believes the gods existed. She left her clan because of that belief.” He looked at the fire. “She left her clan to chase after stories.” 

His brow was creased in a deep frown, and Rynne studied him cautiously. “You don’t think she should have left her clan?”

“I think that if I had grown up with a clan, I would not have left them willingly,” he said quietly.

Rynne nodded, but her mind was churning. The way he said that – _I would not have left them willingly_ : it raised a question in her mind that she wanted to ask, but she also didn’t want to pry. 

But Fenris’s frown was so pensive, and even if he didn’t want her the same way she wanted him, she still wanted to _know_ him. Just as friends. 

She swallowed her nerves and asked. “You weren’t born a slave, were you? You were taken from your family.”

“Yes,” he said quietly. 

She nibbled her lip before speaking again. “How old were you when… when that happened?”

“I was twelve,” he said. “And my–” He broke off suddenly and clenched his jaw, then released a slow breath. “I was twelve,” he repeated softly. 

His eyes remained on the fire, and his frown remained fixed in place. Rynne wanted so badly to hold his hand, but she was fairly certain he wouldn’t want her to. 

With a great effort of will, she kept her hands to herself. “I’m sorry, Fenris.”

“I don’t need your pity,” he said.

His tone was suddenly hard, and Rynne felt a tiny pang of hurt at the hardness of his tone, but she ignored it. She couldn’t blame him for being angry, given… well, everything. “I know you don’t,” she said. “I’m still sorry, though. And I’m still glad you killed your master.”

He shot her a sideways glance, and she relaxed slightly; he wasn’t frowning anymore. “That’s a bloodthirsty sentiment,” he said. “You really are a pirate.”

She smiled. “You smooth talker.”

The corner of his lips curled very slightly, then he looked at the fire once more. “Don’t worry, Hawke. I won’t spoil this trip by arguing with Merrill. It is not worth arguing about.”

“Not like Anders, you mean?” she said. Then she bit her lip. _Fuck._ That had slipped out without her meaning it to.

Sadly, Fenris’s scowl returned. “Not like Anders, no,” he said, and his voice was hard once more. “Merrill’s interests are shallow, but they harm no one. Unlike Anders.”

Rynne nibbled the inside of her cheek uncomfortably. She was probably risking making him mad by asking this, but… well, she was going to be working with both Fenris and Anders for the foreseeable future, and watching them snipe at each other was going to drive her nuts if she didn’t know the reason. 

“Will you tell me what happened between you?” she blurted.

To her dismay, Fenris’s handsome scowl deepened even further, and he didn’t speak. A tense moment later, Merrill emerged from the tent with a smile. 

“The bedrolls are all ready,” she told Rynne. She smiled excitedly at Rynne and Fenris both. “Who wants to go for a walk to the statue of Fen’Harel?”

Rynne looked worriedly at Fenris. Truthfully, she just wanted to talk to him some more, but she’d promised Merrill she would go and see the statue with her… 

Fenris glanced at her, and his shoulders softened slightly. “Go,” he told her. “I will remain here.” He frowned at Merrill. “Look after Hawke. And return before dark.” 

Rynne frowned at his bossiness, and Merrill tutted. “You’re being terribly fussy, you know. We’ll be fine.” She clapped her hands. “Come on, Hawke. It’s a beautiful monument, I promise.”

Rynne hesitated, then rose to her feet. “Are you sure you don’t want to come?” she asked Fenris. 

He nodded without looking at her. “I am fine on my own.”

He looked so pensive and so solitary, and just looking at him made her chest hurt. Sure, he might be fine on his own, but he didn’t _have_ to be on his own. 

She forced herself to smile at him. “Don’t eat all the rations without us. I get very cranky when I’m hungry.” 

“You do?” Merrill asked in surprise. “I’ve never seen you cranky.”

Rynne slung an arm around Merrill’s neck. “That’s because you feed me so well, you master cook.”

Merrill giggled and patted Rynne’s hip. “Oh, you’re sweet. I just do what I can with what Varric brings us.” 

“Well, you do a very good job,” Rynne said. As she and Merrill turned away from the fire, she glanced at Fenris once more. He was staring at the fire still, and his troubled expression was thrown into stark relief by the flickering flames. 

With no small amount of regret, Rynne allowed Merrill to lead her away. 

*******************

Two hours later, when the sun was starting its slow descent toward the horizon, Rynne skipped back into the camp to find Fenris meditating quietly by the fire. 

“I’m back!” she chirped. “And I’m starving. Let’s eat before you become the hapless victim of Hungry Rynne Hawke.” She hurried over to the tent and pulled out one of the haversacks, then carried it over to the fire and sat down. 

He opened his eyes and frowned at her. “Where is Merrill?” 

“She’s still in the woods,” Rynne said. “We came across what looked like an old cave, and there was a faded carving of a halla at the mouth of the cave. She thought there might be some murals or something inside and she wanted to explore, but I was getting hungry, so I came back.” 

His eyes widened. “You returned on your own?”

“Only part of the way,” she said. “She came with me until I recognized the trail, and I came the rest of the way by myself.” She pulled out a sachet of raisins and roasted nuts, then started rifling around for the hardtack biscuits. 

“ _Venhedis fasta vass,_ ” Fenris hissed. He shoved himself to his feet.

Rynne looked up in alarm as he paced angrily by the fire. “What’s wrong?”

He glared at her. “Merrill shouldn’t have left you alone! What if something had happened to you?”

“Like what?” she said archly. “There’s no one else around.”

“You don’t know that,” he retorted.

She wrinkled her nose. “I’m pretty sure. We haven’t seen anyone all day.”

He shook his head, then resumed his pacing. “You could have gotten lost,” he said. 

“I knew where I was!” she said defensively. “It’s still daylight! And I was only on my own for five minutes.”

He glared at her. He looked distinctly like he was trying to muster another argument. Rynne gave him an exasperated look. “Fenris, I thought you wanted me to be independent and to be able to do everything on my own. Why the change of heart? Have I really been that bad at learning to take care of myself?”

“No,” he gritted.

She relaxed slightly. For a moment, she was actually worried that that was the problem. “Good,” she said. “I was really hoping I wasn’t useless anymo–”

“You are not useless,” he snapped. “Stop saying that.”

She recoiled slightly. “All right, all right. I’m amazing and capable.”

He dragged his hands through his hair. “ _Vishante kaffas._ Are you capable of being serious for two minutes?” he yelled.

She snapped her mouth shut, then dropped her eyes to her lap and swallowed hard. She silently turned to her haversack and resumed the search for the hardtack biscuits.

A moment later, Fenris sat beside her. Rynne ignored him and kept haphazardly searching through her bag.

After another awkward moment of silence, he spoke in a quiet, calm voice. “Every misfortune can’t be avoided or fixed,” he said. “Sometimes terrible things happen, and they can’t be repaired or undone. I want you to avoid preventable misfortunes.”

Rynne wilted. Was this about what she’d said on the boat earlier? 

She gave him a pleading look. “Come on, Fenris, it was just a five-minute walk–”

“You frightened me,” he interrupted. “Don’t do that again.”

She straightened in surprise and stared at him. She’d _frightened_ him? He was frightened for her? He was… Fenris was scared for her safety? What… what did that mean? 

She took a deep breath. “Fenris…”

He looked away from her and roughly rubbed his hair. He looked extremely uncomfortable, and the questions she was dying to ask withered away at the back of her tongue. 

He glanced at her very briefly. “Hand me the hardtack. Please,” he added.

She took a deep, quiet breath, then reached into the haversack once more and finally found the fucking hardtack biscuits. She handed him the biscuits, and he unwrapped the waxcloth and offered them to her. 

She silently took a biscuit. He took one as well and bit into it – a big, vicious bite – and they ate in awkward silence for a minute. 

Rynne finished her biscuit, then gave him a frank look. “I’m not going to just sit obediently on the ship doing nothing, you know.”

He scowled, but she pressed on before he could speak. “I left Kirkwall to have a life. I left because I wanted something more than just… just sitting on my ass and being supervised and doing what people tell me.”

Fenris rubbed his face, and Rynne softened slightly. “You can boss me around when you’re teaching me,” she said. “You know how much I like that.” He scoffed, and she smiled. “But you can’t tell me what to do all the time. You can’t get mad when you don’t know what I’m doing every second of the day.” 

“I am not trying to leash you,” he said sharply. “That is not my intent.”

“I know,” she said softly. “But you can’t… you can’t keep me safe from everything. If I get hurt, I’ll just patch myself up. Or get Anders to do it.” She waved casually at her wounded head. “I’ll be fine, Fenris.”

He gazed at her for a moment, and his big emerald-green eyes were so soft and serious that they made her want to fucking cry. 

Then he looked away from her and took another large bite of hardtack.

She sighed. Was it always going to hurt this much to be friends with him? 

She turned to the bag and started half-heartedly rifling through it again. “Where’s the rum gone?”

Fenris snorted softly. “You sound like Piper.”

She looked at him, then smiled in relief at his tiny smirk. “I’ll take that as a compliment,” she said. A moment later, she triumphantly pulled a bottle of rum from the haversack. 

She pulled out the cork and took a swig, then offered it to Fenris. He hesitated for a moment before taking the bottle, and to Rynne’s surprise, he took three large gulps before handing the bottle back to her.

“You wish to know why Anders and I don’t see eye-to-eye?” he said abruptly.

She gaped at him, then snapped her mouth shut. “Wha– yes. Yes, I do,” she said. 

He nodded, then exhaled heavily and gave her a frank look. “The medical arts can be learned in two ways: the study of cadavers, or the study of living subjects. The Tevinter Imperium prides itself on being at the cutting edge of the medical arts, but their knowledge is gained through the torture of slaves.”

Rynne winced. Without meaning to, her eyes skittered over his tattooed forearms and the tattooed wedge of his exposed chest. 

“Yes,” he said quietly. “Experiments on living slaves. Cutting their flesh to see how long it takes to heal, or how long it takes to die from an infection. Forcing them to ingest strange substances to see if those substances are remedies or poisons.” He took the rum from her hand and took another long drink, then handed the bottle back to her before speaking again. “Forcing refined lyrium and ink beneath the skin to see if that makes the subject heal faster in battle.” He shot her a flat look. “The answer is this: it doesn’t.” 

She stared at him in horror, then forced herself to inhale. “Is that… that’s what they did to you?” she breathed.

“Yes,” he said. He looked away from her. 

She swallowed hard. He looked so angry, and Rynne wanted to hug him so fucking badly. Every inch of her body was begging to wrap him in her arms and squeeze him, because that’s what she would have wanted in his place. 

But Fenris hated being pitied. He would probably bite her head off if she tried to touch him right now. 

Then she remembered why he’d started telling this story. “But why… are you saying…” She nervously licked her lips. “Anders doesn’t do… experiments like that. He only works with cadavers.”

Fenris raised one eyebrow and reached for the sachet of nuts and raisins. “Did he tell you that?”

“I… well.” She faltered. “I’ve only ever seen him working with dead specimens.”

Fenris huffed. He poured a small handful of nuts and raisins into his palm. “He did not tell you about the poisoned slaver, then.”

She shook her head wordlessly. Fenris ate his handful of nuts and dried fruit before speaking again. “During a raid on a Tevinter ship, we found a slaver suffering from some odd symptoms. The symptoms of a rare poisonous plant, Anders said. I would have killed the man, but Anders insisted on bringing him back to the Lady Luck to study him.” A sneer curled his lip as he continued the story. “He kept the man alive in the infirmary for three weeks before he died, just watching the progression of his symptoms. He claimed it was for the sake of science. _I_ see it as masking the acquisition of knowledge under the thin guise of power.” 

Rynne gazed at him with an ache in her belly. Given Fenris’s history, she could understand his disgust with Anders. 

Then she remembered something odd: Fenris’s subtle displeasure when she’d first told him she was going to be studying with Anders. 

She nibbled the inside of her cheek for a moment, then put the rum bottle down. “Fenris, are you angry that I’m learning medicine?”

He looked at her pensively for a moment, and she held her breath until he shook his head. “No. You are not like Anders,” he said. “I can’t imagine you keeping a person alive and in agony simply to take notes on how much blood is in their vomit each day.”

Rynne swallowed hard. “No, I… I don’t think I’d have the stomach for that.”

Fenris nodded agreement, and they were quiet for a moment. Then Rynne gave him a sideways look. “Is that what Anders was talking about when you were fighting in Lowtown?”

Fenris nodded again, and Rynne licked her lips nervously. She knew her next question was going to make him mad, but she had to ask. “Did the, er. The information he got from that slaver. Did it really help him save Loranil’s life?”

Sure enough, Fenris shot her a sharp glare. “You condone what he did, then.”

“It’s not that,” she said. “I just…” She reached up to tuck her hair behind her ear, then flinched as her fingers grazed the stitched-up wound on her head. 

Fenris pulled her hand away. “Be careful,” he warned. 

He was holding her wrist. His warm, strong fingers were wrapped around her wrist. She forced her scrambled brain to focus. “I just think that… well, the knowledge is there. It was gained by ill means, but we might as well use it, right? And just, um… make sure that Anders doesn’t do that again.”

He narrowed his eyes. “That is a slippery slope, Hawke. Even the most well-intentioned use of such ill-gained knowledge encourages others to gain more.”

“I… I suppose so,” she said. She let out a little self-deprecating laugh. “I’m glad I’m just the assistant surgeon. I don’t have to make any of those decisions. I’m just here to patch people up and to have a good time.”

He studied her for a moment longer, and she waited tensely for him to speak. Finally he exhaled and released her wrist. “Everything is a joke to you, isn’t it?”

She shifted closer to him. “It’s not,” she said seriously. “It’s not a joke. I just… I wasn’t thinking about this when I started working with Anders. I just wanted to learn something interesting. And now that I’ve been doing doctor things for a couple weeks, I really like it. It’s nice being able to heal people and make them better.” She cozily tucked her knees up against her chest. “You know what’s funny? When I was in Lowtown in my little clinic tent, some people kept coming back to see me over and over even though their burns didn’t need to be looked at again or their stitches were okay. I think they just wanted someone to make them _feel_ better, even if their wounds were doing fine.” She smiled at him. “Makes sense, I guess. If some crazy navy bitch came and tried to burn my house down, I’d probably want someone to cheer me up, too.”

Fenris studied her without speaking, and Rynne smiled nervously at him before picking up the bottle of rum again. His expression was quite neutral, and she couldn’t tell what he was thinking, but at least he didn’t look angry anymore. 

She took a small sip of rum and nibbled another biscuit, even though she wasn’t particularly hungry anymore. Fenris’s gaze returned to the fire, and they sat in silence for a while as she absently ate her biscuit and wondered how she could cheer him up without making him feel like a victim.

When the biscuit was gone, she dug around in her haversack for the cloth wraps that Fenris encouraged her to use for bare-knuckles training. She pulled the rolls of fabric out of her bag, then stood up and dusted off her bum. 

“Come on, then,” she said. “Shall we train for a bit?”

His eyebrows rose, but he readily pushed himself to his feet. “A sound suggestion,” he said. He led her away from the fire. “Let’s practice your defensive techniques. No weapons for you.” 

Already he looked more at ease. Rynne couldn’t decide whether to be pleased that he seemed more comfortable, or sad that talking to her made him so tense. 

“All right,” she said, and she started wrapping her hands and wrists. A few minutes later when she turned around to face him, he was holding a short stick like a dagger. 

She grinned at him as she settled into a ready stance. “My my, what a lovely hard stick you’ve got there,” she purred.

He smirked. “Pay attention, Hawke.” He lunged at her. 

She dodged back smoothly. He feinted to her left, but she anticipated his move and blocked his other hand as he tried to grab her, then kicked at his knee. 

He dodged her kick, then dropped his arms. “Good,” he said. “Very good.”

She grinned at him and bounced on the balls of her feet. “I have a very good teacher.”

He smiled faintly, then lunged at her once more, and she stumbled back in startlement at his unexpected attack. He pressed forward with two wicked slashes, and Rynne managed to block his dagger-bearing hand and shove it to the side. 

Then he hooked his bare foot behind her ankle and pushed her. 

She stumbled back and fell to one knee, but caught herself on her left hand before she could fully hit the ground. Then Fenris was looming over, and his stick was coming down toward her face–

She raised her arm in defense, blocking his wrist as he brought the dagger down. Then his left hand was holding her throat. 

She froze and stared up at him. His lovely green eyes were dark from the fading daylight, and an inconvenient flush of excitement trickled through her chest. His fingers were warm around her neck, and her pulse was beating in her throat. She wondered if he could feel it. 

She licked her lips nervously. “How did I do that time?” she asked, a little breathlessly. 

“You tell me,” he said. He released her neck and stepped back. “What did you do well, and what would you fix?”

“Um…” His chest was rising and falling with exertion. She forced her gaze to her own hands and idly adjusted her wraps. “I… I think I’m getting faster. The moves are coming more naturally.”

“Yes,” he said. “You are getting faster. What could you improve?”

She inhaled slowly. “I’m still–” 

 

He lunged at her again, this time with the stick aiming low at her gut, and she squealed and dodged away, but not quickly enough. 

She burst into laughter. “Now you’re just being an asshole.”

He smirked and tossed the stick from hand to hand. “Tell me what you need to improve.”

“You’re still taking me by surprise,” she said with a grin. “But every attack will be a surprise. I need to be prepared all the time.”

“That’s right,” he said. He wrapped his fingers around the stick once more. “Let’s continue.”

She nodded, and Fenris lunged at her. As the sun continued its descent toward the horizon, they continued to spar, and eventually Rynne lost track of time as she dodged and blocked and kicked at him. She managed to block him most times, which was good, but none of her return strikes ever seemed to get within range of him; he always dodged too quickly for her to land a hit. 

Or perhaps she was just too distracted to move quickly enough. The firelight was glittering off of Fenris’s skin, picking up the sweat and highlighting the trailing lines of the tattoos that covered his body. His expression was focused and serious as he attacked her, and his chest was rising and falling as he panted for breath, and every time he grabbed her, she was half-tempted to _not_ pull away. To let him drag her close so she could smell the heat of his skin, that sweet but salty scent that she’d only had the chance to savour once before when they were clasped together on the floor of his cabin–

“Shit,” she blurted. In her distraction, she’d allowed him to get too close, and he’d grabbed her and dragged her back against his chest. His palm was on her belly and his other hand was holding the faux-dagger at her throat, and it felt like the heat of his palm was pooling low in her abdomen, then lower still… 

She didn’t think. She acted on instinct and grabbed his wrist, pulling down _hard_ while bucking her shoulder up, and a moment later she was free from his grip.

And she was so shocked to have freed herself from him that she released his dagger-holding hand. 

Fenris lunged at her again. She squeaked and lashed out with her fist, striking him squarely in the mouth.

He stumbled back with a pained grunt and lifted his hand to his lip, and Rynne clapped her hands over her mouth in horror. “Fuck!” she squealed. She hurried toward him. “Fuck, fuck, I’m so sorry, I’m _so_ sorry… oh, shit.” 

He was bleeding. There was a thin line of blood on his lip and on his fingers. Maker’s balls, she’d made him bleed. 

“Shit. Shit shit,” she whimpered. She stroked his cheek. “I’m so sorry, Fenris, I didn’t mean to hit you so hard – does it hurt?”

“You struck me,” he said blankly. 

Oh Maker, the blood was leaking down toward the bottom of his lip. She pushed away a terrible urge to lick it, then gingerly swiped the blood away with her thumb. “I know, I know, I’m so sorry,” she babbled. “I didn’t – I wasn’t thinking…”

“That’s excellent,” he said. “You struck me, and it was instinctive. That is excellent, Hawke.”

She darted her gaze to his face, then realized with a shock that he was smiling.

 _Actually_ smiling. Not just a little amused smirk, and not just a brief and fleeting half-smile. He was fully smiling at her, and there was blood on his lip, blood that _she’d_ put there with her flailing fists.

And she was almost pressed against him. Her body was nearly touching his body, and her other hand was gripping his arm, and she was so close that she could feel his heat, and she could… Andraste save her, she could _smell_ him. 

His sweat. His heat. His fucking skin. She could smell him, and she wanted to… fuck, she wanted to taste him and to have him tasting her, and to have him _want_ to taste her…

A pang of distress rose through her chest. She wanted Fenris so badly, so fucking badly she could barely think, and he didn’t want her. 

She stepped away from him and released his arm. He roughly wiped his lip and settled into a ready stance. “See if you can do that again,” he said.

She dragged in a careful, bracing breath, then smiled at him. “A glutton for punishment, are you?” 

He quirked one eyebrow. “Hardly. You are making progress. We should continue.”

He was still fucking smiling. He was so beautiful, and he made her heart feel so full and so heavy that she was afraid it was going to crush itself. 

She laughed lightly. “I think I’d rather leave this on a high note. Best not to push my luck too hard or I’ll find myself flat on my ass.” She turned away from him and started unwrapping her hands. 

“Are you certain?” he said. “I… we can keep going.”

 _I can’t,_ she thought. If she had to look at his stupid gorgeous smile for another minute, she might burst into tears. 

She shook her head and pretended to concentrate on her hand wraps. “Thank you, but I’m rather tired. All this walking and mountain air is a lot for a city girl.” She gave him a quick cheeky smile. 

He was frowning again – _back to our usual,_ she thought morosely – and his expression was a little too worried for her liking. 

She forced herself to laugh. “I know, I know, I’m ruining the fun so early. We can spar again tomorrow,” she said. “I promise to punch you in the face again in the morning.”

“All right,” he said. He took a step away from her and ran a hand through his hair. “What will you, er…?”

She jerked her thumb at the tent. “I’m going to read in bed for a bit. Or bedroll, I suppose.” She gave him another cheeky smile. “I’ve never slept on the ground before. This will be an exciting adventure.” 

He grunted an acknowledgement, and Rynne felt a fresh ache in her chest; he was starting to look awkward now, no doubt because she was doing a terrible job of hiding her feelings. 

She walked over to the fire and picked up her haversack. “Goodnight,” she said cheerfully, and she turned away from him and sauntered toward the tent.

“Er, goodnight,” he said. 

She smiled in his direction without actually looking at him, then dug out a small oil lamp and a book from her bag. She lit the lamp before crawling into the tent, then securely tucked the flaps shut and pulled off her boots before slipping into the bedroll and settling on her side.

She opened her book and found the place where she’d left off, then stared blindly at the page for a minute while the terrible twin aches of longing and lust continued to pound through her veins. Eventually she took a deep breath and tried to focus on the book, but it turned out that Piper’s untouched copy of _Swords and Shields_ was the literal worst choice of book she could have brought with her. Rynne had just gotten to the chapter where the Knight-Captain and the guardsman finally made up – in a very physical fashion indeed – and even though she’d read this scene countless times, it seemed to affect her more deeply than before, now that she had a specific handsome elven man in mind to project the scenario onto.

She closed the book and rolled hopelessly onto her back, but staring at the tarp overhead didn’t help; it didn’t stop her breathing from coming short and sharp, and it didn’t stop the buzzing pressure that was building between her legs. 

Before she left Kirkwall, she’d always enjoyed the tantalizing feelings that smutty novels gave her, figuring that she probably wouldn’t feel this kind of desire with whatever horrible man her mother forced her to marry. But she was free now, and the man who inspired this urgent pique of lust was precisely the one who didn’t feel the same way about her. 

She closed her eyes and tried to breathe slowly, but thoughts of Fenris only seemed to flash more insistently on the canvas of her closed eyelids. She remembered the way he’d touched her neck so casually that first time they’d trained together, like his fingers _weren’t_ the first ones that had ever touched her so intimately, stroking along the line of her throat...

Imagine if he stroked his fingers that gently in other places. 

The pressure between her legs throbbed more insistently, and she frowned. _Stop this,_ she scolded herself. Thinking of him this way was a futile exercise, and nothing would come of it. Nothing _could_ come of it, since he’d made his lack of interest very clear. 

Her throat felt swollen. She swallowed hard, but even as she reminded herself that he didn’t want her, she couldn’t help but remember their kiss. 

Oh, but it had been so fucking promising. His lips devouring hers, coaxing her mouth open so he could slip his tongue along the edge of hers, making her wonder what it would be like to have his tongue sliding so carefully somewhere else–

The buzzing pressure throbbed again. Rynne pressed her thighs together to try and ease the feeling, but this only made it worse: a bolt of pleasure rippled up through her abdomen, and she pressed her lips together hard to stop herself from making any noise.

 _Fenris._ She wanted him so badly. She’d never known anyone who made her feel this way before, even if he didn’t mean to. She’d never known anyone whose mere closeness made her want to peel her clothes off. She’d never seen anyone as handsome as Fenris, with his sun-darkened skin and those strange and terrible tattoos that he hated so much, but that Rynne didn’t hate… No, how could she hate them? She didn’t hate them because they were his: they were proof of his strength and his survival, and they were printed on _his_ skin, and she loved–

 _No._ No, she couldn’t think like that. It was juvenile and stupid. She’d only known Fenris for three weeks. You couldn’t love a person after three weeks, not even if they knew your secrets and understood you better than anyone you’d ever known. Not even if that person was extremely smart and thoughtful and patient, despite having a temper at times. Especially not if that person didn’t love you back. 

Her heavy heart swelled painfully in her chest, and she shifted her thighs restlessly to distract herself from the ache, but the distraction was just as bad. Every movement of her thighs seemed to encourage the heavy pressure between her legs, and before she could stop to think, she was sliding her left hand over her belly and down, down toward the apex of her thighs.

 _Don’t,_ she told herself, but it was too late; she was pressing the edge of her thumb between her legs, pressing the fabric of her trousers and her smalls against that most sensitive spot, and a ripple of pleasure pulsed away from her center and through her limbs.

She gasped softly before she could stop herself, then clamped her lips together. Guilt and shame were hissing in her ear, telling her to stop this: this was unladylike, and she was sharing this tent with Merrill, and Fenris was just outside the tent by the fire, less than thirty paces away. How could she be doing this here and now, where either of her companions could step into the tent at any moment and see what she was doing? Worse yet, how could she be doing this while thinking about Fenris at all? If he knew – if he found out she was thinking of him this way – he would probably want nothing to do with her. 

But Rynne couldn’t help herself. Guilt and shame were hissing in one ear, but the unshakeable purr of pleasure was whispering in the other, telling her that this felt _good_ and that no one needed to know, and if she wanted to fantasize that Fenris wanted her, that was okay; it was her own mind, her own private thoughts, and if she couldn’t have him in real life, at least she could have him here. 

Here in the privacy of her fantasies, she could imagine that Fenris was here with her. She could imagine that he was looming over her, pinning her to the bedroll and kissing her hard like he had in his cabin on the floor. She could imagine that her legs were spread because Fenris was between them, and that his hands were sliding along her bare thighs and spreading her even wider…

She exhaled sharply and pressed her hand more firmly between her legs. The pressure was thrumming there, and as she rubbed the blade of her thumb gently between her legs, she imagined that it was _his_ fingers instead, pressing against the fabric of her trousers – no, even better: what if it was his fingers _inside_ of her trousers, slipping beneath the fabric to feel her?

 _That’s what I want._ The desperate wish rang through her mind, and she twisted restlessly in her bedroll and pressed her thumb harder between her legs. She wanted Fenris’s fingers there, or maybe even his mouth – oh Maker, imagine if that ever happened? If he were to run his tongue between her legs?

A fresh, dizzying pulse of pleasure rushed through her limbs, and she squeezed her eyes shut. Yes, that was what she wanted: Fenris’s mouth between her legs, kissing her and tasting her until she came, then kissing her lips and showing her what he’d just tasted while he positioned himself over her, poised to slide himself inside that secret part of her that he’d just pleasured so well…

She gasped and twisted in the bedroll. A spasm was rolling out from the spot between her legs, like something deep inside of her had burst into a million scintillating pieces and was rushing through her limbs down to her toes and up to her throat, and she jammed her free hand against her mouth to stifle herself. When the feeling ebbed away, she pulled her hand out from beneath the covers and curled her fist over her chest. 

She felt empty. Her heart hurt and her eyes were burning with tears, because none of it mattered. His fingers, his mouth, the unknown fantasy of his cock: none of that mattered, because that wasn’t _him._ Fenris was intelligence and thoughtfulness and patience and strange bursts of temper. He was a dark well of pain that he’d only just started letting her see, and he was a wry smirk and a clever comeback delivered in a smooth growl of a voice. He was different and special and everything she’d been missing during her sheltered life in Kirkwall.

And he didn’t want her, so none of the rest mattered. 

A tear ran down the side of her face, and she quickly wiped it away. Then a soft voice called out from outside the tent flap. “Hawke?”

It was Fenris. He was right outside the fucking tent. A surge of panic and guilt rendered her nauseous, and she almost replied out of pure habit. _Almost_. But at the last second, she bit her tongue and said nothing. 

A moment later, he spoke again. “Hawke? Are you awake?”

She inhaled slowly to calm herself and closed her eyes. If she had to talk to him now, she would either blurt out that she loved him or start bawling like a fucking baby, and both options were absolutely horrific. 

A moment later, she heard the soft swish of the tarp, followed by the quiet sound of Fenris’s bare feet stepping into the tent. Rynne kept her eyes shut and pretended to be asleep.

“Careless,” he muttered. There was a soft clinking sound, and behind her closed eyelids, the shifting light inside the tent told her that he was moving the oil lamp. 

The flickering light stilled for a moment, and there was a brief silence. Then Fenris lifted the edge of the bedroll and carefully arranged it so it covered her up to her neck. 

A fresh surge of distress swelled in her chest at the seemingly tender gesture, but she forced herself to remain still. A moment later, Fenris slipped out of the tent, taking the oil lamp with him and leaving her in darkness.

As soon as the hazy lamplight was gone, Rynne rolled onto her side. A second later, a hot rivulet of tears was running down her face and onto her arm. 

_This is so fucking stupid,_ she thought. She had no good reason to cry. So what if the man she had a juvenile crush on didn’t like her back? So what if she wanted to melt into a puddle every time he touched her? This was hardly worth crying about. People had lost their homes and their lives and their families in the Lowtown fire. Rynne hadn’t lost anything at all. 

She closed her eyes and allowed the tears to pour down her face. If she could fantasize about Fenris in private, then she should be able to cry about him in private too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’LL FIX THIS, I PROMISE.
> 
> I am [Pikapeppa on Tumblr,](https://pikapeppa.tumblr.com/) and our wonderful mesmerizing artist is [Schoute!](https://schoute.tumblr.com/) xoxo


	19. Adventure

###  PIPER 

Piper gazed fondly at Cullen’s stern and stoic face until he looked at her.

He raised his eyebrows and unfolded his arms. “What is it? Are you all right?” 

She smiled and patted his arm. “Rylen will be here soon. Don’t fret.”

Cullen released a heavy exhale. “There’s no need for him to come here just to say goodbye. I could have bade him farewell at the navy headquarters after the verdict yesterday.” He frowned at the glum Darktown docks where he and Piper were waiting. “They may suspect him of smuggling or some such crime if they know he came here.” 

“I don’t think you have to worry about that,” Piper said confidently. 

Cullen turned his frown to her. “What do you mean, I don’t have to worry about that?” 

She shrugged casually, and Cullen tilted his head. “Piper, what have you done?”

She pressed a hand to her chest in an imitation of Rynne’s most innocent mien. “Me?” she said. “Golden Boy, you besmirch my honour by suggesting I’d ever get up to any sort of trouble.”

He scoffed. “Piper, if elves had middle names, yours would be Trouble.”

“Wrong,” she sang. “It would be Rowdy. Varric said so.”

Cullen chuckled, and Piper smiled triumphantly at him, pleased to have wiped away his frown. After all, he really didn’t have anything to worry about when it came to Rylen.

A moment later, Cullen straightened in relief. “There he is. Finally.” 

Piper looked up. Rylen was striding toward them dressed in his navy uniform and carrying a large seabag over his shoulder. 

He nodded to Piper as they approached. “Captain,” he said. 

She nodded in return. “Sailor,” she said. “Ready to depart?” 

Cullen did a double-take at her. “Wait. What was that?”

Piper folded her arms and smiled smugly. “Rylen is coming with us. The crew corrupted him with their pirate-y ways.”

“That’s not quite the reason, but yes,” Rylen confirmed. “I’m joining Captain Lavellan’s crew.” 

Piper punched his arm. “You’ll have to lose the manners on my ship, Rylen. That polite shit just won’t do.” 

Cullen, meanwhile, was still gaping at them both in disbelief, and Piper beamed at him and patted his arm. “Come on, Cullen, we weren’t really going to leave without the good lieutenant. _Former_ lieutenant,” she amended.

Cullen swallowed hard and looked at Rylen. “But… the navy,” he said feebly. “You… you didn’t apply to resign. You’re… deserting the Kirkwall Navy?”

Rylen adjusted his seabag and nodded. “Yes, sir. No time to prepare my application, but no matter. And Captain Mad Piper–”

“That’s more like it,” Piper interjected.

“–said she could use the extra set of hands on deck,” Rylen finished. 

Cullen stared at him for a moment longer, then turned to Piper. “You didn’t tell me.”

His eyes were shining, and Piper fondly stroked his cheek. “I wanted to surprise you,” she said. “A ‘welcome to the ship’ sort of thing–”

He grabbed her and kissed her, cutting off her words. Surprised and delighted, Piper clasped his face and kissed him back, then laughed as he released her almost as abruptly as he’d pulled her close. 

“Maker’s breath. I’m sorry,” he stammered. “I – that was very, er – my apologies…” He rubbed his mouth and glanced apologetically at Rylen, and Piper laughed even harder at his bright red cheeks. 

He took a deep breath, then held out his hand to Rylen. “Lieuten– Rylen. I’m pleased you’ll be joining us.”

Rylen smirked as he shook Cullen’s hand. Then Cullen shook his head slightly. “Oh, for Maker’s sake,” he muttered, and he pulled Rylen into a hug.

Rylen cleared his throat gruffly and patted Cullen on the back, and Piper beamed at them. She patted their shoulders and started to chivvy them toward the dinghy. “Come on, you saps, let’s get moving. The winds are calling us back to the sea. There’s no time to waste.”

Cullen gave her a sheepish little smile as he and Rylen broke apart, and Piper squeezed his hand affectionately. Needless to say, it seemed like Cullen’s – and Rylen’s – first day as pirates was off to an auspicious start.

************************

Piper strolled over to the table behind the helm where Varric, Dorian and Cole were waiting. She shoved Dorian’s feet off of the table and sat in the spot where his feet had been. “All right, gentlemen, are we ready to set sail?”

Varric nodded a greeting to Cullen and Rylen, who had followed Piper up to the helm. “Ready when you are, Cap,” he said affably. “Where are we headed next?” 

“No idea,” Piper said cheerfully.

Varric huffed in amusement, and Cullen raised his eyebrows. “Really? You have no plans?”

Dorian snorted delicately. “Typical. Fetch me when you have something for me to do, will you?” He rose from his chair and waved for Cole to join him. 

Cole blinked at Piper as he and Dorian passed her by. “Follow the call of the wind. A howl in the heart guiding you to the shining places.”

Piper patted his shoulder. “Thanks, Cole. We’ll do that.”

He smiled vaguely at her, then followed Dorian down the stairs. Cullen gave her a quizzical look. “What was he talking about?”

She shrugged. “Haven’t got a clue. He’s a fantastic barrelman, but he marches to the beat of his own drum.” She waved for Rylen and Cullen to take Dorian and Cole’s empty chairs, then turned to Varric again. “We should probably raid a slaver ship soon. The crew have been awfully patient with me, but they’re due some downtime.” 

“Raid a ship?” Cullen said. 

“Of course,” Piper said. “Downtime requires coin.” She rubbed her fingers together and wiggled her eyebrows. 

Cullen blew out a breath and gave Rylen a worried look, and Piper reached over and squeezed Cullen’s hand. “They’re slavers, Cullen. It’s what they deserve,” she said firmly. “Believe me, you’ll agree when you see the inside of their ships.” 

“No, I understand,” Cullen said quickly. “I – we have dealt with slaver’s ships before. It is simply a… a shift of perspective, that’s all.”

“Exactly,” Piper said. “No navy rules here. No prisoners. Slavers get no fucking mercy from the Lady Luck.”

Cullen nodded. Then Varric leaned his elbows on the table. “The hull could use a good cleaning first,” he said to Piper. “The ship is getting pretty slow.”

Piper gasped mockingly. “How dare you speak of a lady in such terms!” 

He raised one sardonic eyebrow, and she chuckled and slid off the table. “You’re right, of course. Let’s stop off at that little bay on Brandel’s Reach and careen her.”

Rylen chuckled. “That’s really why you wanted me on board, isn’t it? Another pair of hands to scrape the hull?”

She playfully punched his arm. “Obviously. If you scrape the hull, then I don’t have to.”

Just then, Rynne bounced up onto the stern to join them. To Piper’s total lack of surprise, Fenris was following in her wake.

“Rylen!” she said brightly. “How lovely to see you! I didn’t know you were joining the crew.”

“I am indeed,” he said. “In fact, I have something for you.” He rose from his seat and knelt beside his seabag, then pulled out a large bundle and handed it to Rynne. 

The bundle was roughly wrapped in plain paper and tied with string, and Rynne’s eyes were wide as she took it. “For me? You shouldn’t have,” she said playfully, but her expression was painted with surprise.

“It’s from Carver,” Rylen clarified. “He gave it to me this morning. That’s why I was running late,” he said apologetically to Piper and Cullen.

Piper raised her eyebrows at Rynne. “I thought your brother was pissed about you joining the crew.”

“He was,” Rynne said blankly. She poked the bundle experimentally, then smiled up at Fenris. “This doesn’t feel like a package of angry diatribe. I wonder what it could be?” She placed the bundle on the table and started picking at the knotted twine.

Fenris frowned slightly. “You don’t want to open it in private?”

Rynne paused and gave him a grateful smile, and Piper raised one eyebrow at the subtext in her smile. “It’s fine,” she assured Fenris. “I’m sure it’s nothing very important.” She turned back to the packet and untied it, then unwrapped the paper and promptly started laughing. “Oh Carver, you berk.”

Piper raised her eyebrows. “Well, that’s… practical,” she said sardonically. The package contained three dresses: one of blue velvet trimmed with lace and pearls, and two others that were less decorative but just as clearly expensive.

Varric chuckled, then rose from the table. “Well, I’m going to get the crew moving so we can cast off.” He patted Hawke’s elbow as he passed her by. “We’ll look forward to seeing you sparring with Fenris in one of those.” 

Fenris grunted and folded his arms. “Absolutely not. They’re a tripping hazard.”

Rynne grinned at him. She was holding the blue velvet dress up to her front. “Are you sure, Fenris? I think we should try. I don’t know if an enemy’s blades would penetrate this corset. The boning on this fucker is hardy, believe me.”

Fenris shook his head in exasperation, and Cullen cleared his throat. “Well, perhaps I will help Rylen to settle in,” he said. He nodded a polite farewell to Fenris and Rynne, then smiled at Piper. “Call me if you require my help?” he said.

She affectionately tugged his collar. “You know I will,” she purred.

His smile broadened and his cheeks turned slightly pink, and Piper happily stared at his bum as he and Rylen walked away. Then she returned her attention to Rynne, who was holding one of the plainer dresses against her chest and swaying playfully from side to side while she grinned at Fenris. 

“What about this one?” she said. “There’s a little less pouf to this one. I think he was actually trying to be helpful by sending this one.” She adopted a mockingly deep and cranky voice. “‘Ladies don’t wear trousers, Rynne, but you can wear this skirt without petticoats and I won’t tell Mother.’” 

“Your mother’s opinion holds no value,” Fenris said. “You know that.”

Piper shot him an odd look. That was a weirdly blunt and serious thing to say, considering how playful Rynne was being. Even more oddly, though, Rynne dropped her playful behaviour and gave him another grateful look. “I know,” she said softly. She reached up and pinched his chin. “I’m just being an idiot, I promise.”

He huffed, then shifted closer to the table and away from Rynne, and Piper watched with growing exasperation as Rynne’s expression became wistful. Then Fenris shifted the last dress aside and picked up another item from the bundle. 

It was a small leather pouch made of dark leather, obviously expensive and well-crafted, with Rynne’s family crest stamped on the front. Fenris handed it to Rynne, whose face had fallen into a look of unguarded surprise.

Unable to stand the suspense, Piper drifted over beside her. “What’s that?” she asked.

Rynne swallowed. For the first time since opening the bundle, she looked serious. “It was my father’s,” she said. “He gave it to Carver on his eighteenth birthday.” 

Fenris raised his eyebrows, and Piper frowned worriedly at Rynne. “Did your father pass away?” she asked gently. 

“Oh, no no,” Rynne said hurriedly. “He’s a naturalist. He does field research. Scientific journeys, you know. We rarely see him.” She opened the pouch slowly, and her eyes widened further. “It’s… full of coin,” she said blankly. “And a note…?” She pulled a small folded piece of parchment from the pouch.

Piper grimaced and took a step back so Rynne could have her privacy. But as Rynne unfolded the note and read it, Piper noticed that Fenris was watching Rynne with a deep frown. 

A deep, concerned-looking frown that did _not_ look like ‘just friends’. 

She folded her arms knowingly, but declined to say anything for now. A moment later, Rynne tucked the note into the pocket of her trousers.

Piper raised her eyebrows. Rynne’s expression was very pleasant – almost weirdly pleasant, especially contrasted with Fenris’s worried scowl. 

“Bad news from your brother?” Piper said. 

“Not at all!” Rynne said cheerfully. She placed the coin pouch on the messy pile of dresses on the table, then started haphazardly gathering the items together in her arms. “I’m going to put all of this away for now. I can probably sell the dresses, right?”

“Yes, if you want to,” Piper said. “You could fetch a solid thirty royals at least for that velvet one. Or we could keep them for disguises.”

Rynne perked up. “Disguises? For what?”

Piper smiled mischievously. “Oh, you know. Sneaking into towns where we’re not wanted, crashing weddings so we can steal their best stuff, that sort of thing.” 

 

Rynne threw her head back and laughed. “That’s marvelous! All right, I’ll keep the dresses. Can I hang them in your armoire?” 

“Of course,” Piper said. 

Rynne beamed at her, but before she could leave the stern, Fenris stepped close to her. He lowered his voice, but not so much that Piper couldn’t hear. 

“Carver doesn’t know everything,” he told Rynne. “His opinion is uninformed.”

Piper listened with growing curiosity as Rynne smiled cheekily at him. “And what if his note just said I’m the most amazing and clever sister he’s ever had?”

Fenris tilted his head chidingly, and Rynne’s smile softened. “I’m fine, Fenris,” she said. “Everything’s fine.” She winked at Piper, then skipped down the stairs with her dresses and coin pouch in her arms. 

Fenris watched her walking away, and Piper stared pointedly at his mopey-mabari face until he turned to look at her. She raised her eyebrows, and he scowled. 

“Don’t start,” he grunted.

“All right then. _You_ start,” she said. She sat on the table again. “What’s going on with the two of you?”

“Nothing,” he said. “There is nothing going on.”

“Uh-huh,” she drawled. “And nugs can fucking fly.”

His lip curled in irritation, and Piper gave him an arch look. “Come on, Fen. I can see how much you care about her. And she likes you _so much,”_ she drawled. “Mythal only knows why, since you’re so cranky with her. Why don’t you just–”

“This is none of your business,” he snapped. “Why are you pushing? You never do this.”

Piper blinked. That was true, actually. It wasn’t her and Fenris’s way to push or pry at each other’s personal business. Their entire friendship was largely premised on unspoken understandings and little hints of information that they’d dropped on each other over the past year. 

But that was weird, wasn’t it? Fenris felt like a brother to her. He always had her back, even when he thought she was being impulsive and foolish, and she always had his. Why didn’t they talk about this stuff?

She slid off the table and took a step toward him. “Maybe I should be pushing. Maybe that’s a problem.”

He _tsk_ ed and turned away from her. Undaunted, she approached him and peered at his angry profile. “Come on, Fenris, don’t you think it’s weird that you’ve been with my crew for over a year and the most personal thing I know about you is that you have a sister?”

“Stop,” he snapped. He started walking away down the stairs. 

She followed him as he strode toward the rack of practice weapons by the bow. “Fine. No family talk,” she conceded. “But look, you’re my friend. Rynne is my friend.” She shrugged innocently. “I just want my friends to be happy and to fuck each other on my lovely ship.”

He shot her a dirty look. “What is it with you and this fantasy of turning the Lady Luck into some sort of perpetual bacchanalia?”

She gave him a frank look. “Listen, any boat is suitable for fucking. The Lady Luck is just more suitable than most.” She waved her hands dreamily in the air. “She’s just got this aura that calls for everyone to get naked–”

“ _Venhedis fasta vass_ ,” he muttered. 

Piper darted in front of him, forcing him to stop. “She thinks you’re not interested. Is that true?”

He glared at her, but the tips of his ears were turning red. He stepped around her without answering and approached the weapons rack, and Piper doggedly followed him. 

“All right, your ears say you’re interested,” she said. “Why does she think you aren’t? Did you tell her you aren’t?”

“I said it is none of your business,” he snarled. He selected a blunted dagger from the rack. 

Piper gazed at him steadily. “You’re giving mixed signals. Even _I’m_ confused.” She selected a practice épée from the second rack, then stepped away from him and lifted her chin. 

He narrowed his eyes at her, then selected a second dagger and turned to face her. 

They stared at each other for a couple of tense seconds. Then Piper lashed out with her sword.

Fenris recognized the feint and dodged, stepping quickly toward her to try and close the gap, and Piper dodged back swiftly. Their blades rang together as she parried a trio of vicious slashes from Fenris’s dual daggers, then she rolled across the deck and sprang to her feet behind him with her épée drawn back to thrust– 

_CLANG_. Fenris spun swiftly and blocked her strike with his daggers crossed. They froze in a draw, and Piper met his eye through their crossed blades. 

“You’re both going to go fucking nuts if you keep this up,” she panted.

He glared at her in silence. A moment later, they both lowered their weapons, and Fenris rubbed his forehead with the back of his hand. 

“I can’t,” he said suddenly.

She tilted her head in confusion. “Can’t what?”

“I can’t… risk it,” he said slowly. He sounded strained, as though Piper was dragging the words from his stomach against his will.

“Can’t risk what?” she asked.

He curled his lip in frustration, then suddenly lunged at her, swiping with one dagger while bringing the other down in an overhead stab. Piper hastily dodged away from him before swiftly bringing her sword up toward his throat. 

_CLANG_. Her sword hit the crosspiece of his dagger, and they froze again in a draw.

“You took a risk joining my ship,” she said. “Do you regret that?”

“No,” he gritted.

She lowered the épée. “Well, I don’t think you’ll regret it if you tell Rynne how you feel.”

“You don’t know that,” he snapped. 

“Of course I don’t know,” she said. “Nobody knows. You think I knew that Cullen was going to stay on the ship when I threw myself at him?”

He shot her a look of surprise, and Piper awkwardly rubbed her nose. The moment the words left her mouth, she felt weird about having said them. She and Fenris had never seriously talked about her feelings for Cullen. Not beyond her dirty comments about Cullen and Fenris’s complaints about her trips to Kirkwall, that was. They’d never had a serious talk about relationship stuff before.

Fenris raised an eyebrow. “You thought he might not remain on the Lady Luck?”

She shrugged and scuffed one bare toe on the deck. “I didn’t know for sure.”

Fenris scoffed, and Piper scowled at him. “Hey. Don’t laugh,” she complained. “You’re the one who’s obviously in love with my assistant surgeon and won’t do anything about it, even though she’s gagging for you as well.”

His smirk faded, and he abruptly turned away from her. “I don’t want to speak of this.” He went to return his daggers to the rack.

Piper sighed. He was so fucking stubborn. “Fine. Just… think about it, okay?” she said. “Sometimes it pays to take a chance. Even if you don’t know how it’ll work out.”

He didn’t reply. Piper gazed in exasperation at the defensive hunch of his shoulders for a moment, then called out to him. “Hey. Fen.”

He turned around, and Piper tossed her épée at him. He caught it easily but with a scowl, and Piper casually folded her arms. “Don’t stay pissed at me for long, okay? I love thunderclouds, but not when they’re hovering over your head.” Without waiting for an answer, she sauntered away from him to return to the stern.

She took the stairs to the helm two at a time, then faced the deck and planted her hands on her hips. “All right, my sweet crew of killers! We set sail in ten minutes!” she yelled. 

There was a scattered chorus of ‘aye’s as the crew continued to prepare for drawing anchor. Piper plopped down in a chair and slung her feet up on the table while she waited. A couple of minutes later, Merrill hurried up the stairs.

“Captain!” she said. She scurried over to Piper and sat across from her. “Dorian mentioned that we have no set course.”

“Right you are,” Piper said cheerfully. “Do you have someplace in mind?”

“I do, in fact,” Merrill said brightly. “We should try sailing to Arlathan Forest. And before you say no,” she said hurriedly as Piper grimaced, “I wanted to show you what I found on Sundermount during our camping trip.” 

Piper snorted. “Oh yeah, the camping trip. How was _that_ , camping with Fenris and Rynne?”

“He made puppy eyes at her every time her back was turned,” Merrill said distractedly. “But look at this.” She pulled a crumpled scroll of parchment from her apron pocket, then flattened it on the table. 

Piper slid her feet to the floor and looked at the parchment with interest. It looked like a charcoal rubbing, likely taken from the wall of a cave. “Is that ancient Elvhen?”

“Yes,” Merrill said excitedly. “I’m trying to decipher it, but my ancient Elvhen isn’t nearly as strong as I’d like it to be, and it’s taking time. But this…” She pointed to a set of symbols in the middle of the page. “That’s definitely the Arlathan Forest. And this here…” She pointed to another set of symbols which were less clearly defined. “I think this is the Vir’Tual’salan.” 

Piper wracked her brain for a moment. “The Vir’Tual’salan…” She lifted her eyes to Merrill’s face and smiled slowly. “You mean the Fountain of Youth.”

“Technically it means the Way of Renewal, but yes,” Merrill chirped. Her eyes were shining with enthusiasm. “Piper, you know the stories they tell about our people – how the ancient elves used to live forever. No one knows _how_ they lived forever, but if it was the Vir’Tual’salan? Can you imagine if it was real?”

Piper raised an approving eyebrow and propped her feet on the table once more. “Well well. You’re proposing a real fucking adventure here.”

Merrill beamed at her and clasped her hands together. “Oh, I hope so! Can we go?”

Piper grinned at her, then sighed and sobered. “I don’t know, Merrill. The Arlathan Forest is right on the border of Tevinter. We’ve got a lot of former slaves on our crew – I don’t want to expose them to that shit again. You know Fenris doesn’t want anything to do with that place.”

Merrill wilted slightly and gave her a pleading look. “I know, but the Arlathan Forest is a neutral zone. It has been for centuries. There are no Tevinter settlements there.”

Piper made a little face. “‘Unclaimed territory’ isn’t exactly the same as a neutral zone.”

Merrill raised her eyebrows knowingly. “But why do you think it’s unclaimed?”

“Ancient elvhen magic?” Piper suggested, mostly jokingly. 

Merrill tutted. “You can laugh, Captain, but I think there’s a reason no one has settled there in hundreds of years.” She rolled the scroll up and rose from the chair. “Will you consider it, at least? I think it could be very exciting. And who knows what sort of treasure we might find?” She raised her eyebrows in a wheedling manner.

Piper chuckled. “Now you’re speaking my language.” She nodded to Merrill. “I’ll speak with the officers and we’ll think about it, all right?”

“That’s wonderful,” Merrill enthused. “ _Ma serannas, lethallan._ ” She tucked the scroll back into the pocket of her apron.

“ _Sathem,_ ” Piper said. Merrill left to return to the galley, and Piper finally rose to her feet and approached the helm. 

She fondly stroked the handles of the steering wheel and looked down at the deck, and an instinctive smile stretched across her face. 

Cullen was approaching the stairs to the stern. He smiled at her as he ascended the stairs. “Are we ready to set sail?” he asked.

She gazed adoringly at him as he came to stand beside her. His hair was curling slightly from the humidity, and he looked very much at home in his open-collared shirt and vest, and the sight of him looking so much at ease on the Lady Luck made her heart flutter with happiness.

“Absolutely,” she said. “Are _you_ ready?”

He nodded. “I believe I’m ready for another adventure.”

She beamed at him. When they’d first met, he was so stern and tense and buttoned-up. And now, to have her notoriously nervous Golden Boy on her ship saying he was ready for an adventure… 

He’d come so far since they had first met. _They’d_ come so far together, and this was still just the beginning. 

She released the handles of the helm and wrapped her arms around his waist. “Kiss me,” she said. 

His smile broadened, and his cheeks pinkened slightly. “As my Captain commands,” he said, and he laid a sweet and tender kiss on her waiting lips. 

Piper grinned more widely still, then reluctantly released her golden-haired lover to grasp the steering wheel once more. “Draw anchor!” she bellowed to the crew. 

They saluted and scurried to take their places. Cullen fondly stroked her hair, then took a seat at the table behind the helm to keep her company. 

Piper smiled at him, then turned her face to the warm and waiting breeze. “Bring me that horizon,” she whispered to the winds.

###  FENRIS

Fenris took a slow, deep breath and tried to focus on the soft rushing of the sea against the side of the ship. He forced his jaw and his fingers to relax, releasing the tension that tended to collect there, but even as he tried to loosen his muscles, he couldn’t escape the persistent thoughts of Hawke.

She was infuriating. Not because she was truly infuriating per se, but because she was so… appealing. Even her attitude about practicing medicine was appealing. Fenris had been angry at first that she wasn’t disgusted by Anders’s actions, but his anger quickly dissipated when she’d described why she enjoyed the healing arts.

Making people feel better, she said. That’s what Hawke liked about the practice of medicine, and to Fenris, it was… a novel perspective. Back in Tevinter, all the doctors he’d had the misfortune to meet were concerned only with gaining knowledge and making their medical discoveries at the expense of their subjects, chasing after recognition and power and coin from the medical academies so they could push their horrendous experiments even further. As one of those unfortunate subjects, Fenris had never encountered a Tevinter doctor who was concerned with making _him_ feel comfortable. But Hawke was different. Beneath her crude and humorous veneer, she was kind and selfless, and… 

And she was spending less time with Fenris than before. After their daily sparring sessions, she promptly took her leave of him to go spend time with Merrill and Dorian and Anders instead of staying to pester him with her questions and her humorous stories, and it was… fine. 

It was fine. It was normal. In fact, it was good that Hawke wasn’t spending her spare time with him. There was no need for them to spend extra time together, since they were just friends. This was what Fenris had wanted: this distance from her, and space to be on his own like he was used to.

Except this wasn’t what he wanted, not really. Ever since he and Hawke had agreed to be just friends, she was on his mind even more than when their relationship was in that tantalizing and terrifying place of uncertainty and flirtation, and he couldn’t stop thinking that in pushing her away, he’d made a terrible mistake.

Maybe… _kaffas_ , as much as Fenris hated to admit it, maybe Piper was right. With how much time he spent thinking about Hawke and agonizing about Hawke and wanting to be around Hawke, maybe it was worth the risk to try and get closer to her.

But something deep in his belly balked at the thought of letting her in. Fenris had lost every person he’d ever grown close to. His mother was killed in the altercation when he and Varania were taken from their home. The Seheronese fishermen who took him in after his escape from Danarius were killed by Tevinter pirates. Anyone he had ever befriended as a young slave had shunned him once Danarius started bringing him to the lyrium mines, and he couldn’t blame them for that. Worst of all, however, was Varania, whom he had lost by _her_ choice when she left with that blasted merchant from Qarinus.

_Goodbye, Leto._ The bluntness of her parting words rang in his ears, and he tried to shunt aside the memory and the hiss of betrayal at the back of his mind. 

Those weren’t the only people he had ever been close to, however. There was Piper, for example, and nothing bad had come of befriending her. But then again, Fenris hadn’t _really_ let her close, as she’d pointed out during their aggravating conversation today. 

And then there was Hawke. Hawke, who was edging her way into his life more quickly than he’d ever thought possible, despite his trying to keep her an arm’s length away. She was prying more information out of him with every conversation they had, making him smile with her silly flirtation and making him think with her strangely optimistic attitude about medicine and family and hope. 

She was already too close, burrowing her way through the barrier of his stained skin with every passing day. If he let her in any more, and if she was taken away from him – by circumstance or by her own choice… 

Something inside of his chest quailed at the thought. He took another deep breath, then exhaled heavily and scrubbed his hands through his hair. It seemed as though his meditation wasn’t helping to calm his nerves tonight. 

He lay back on the forecastle deck and stared despondently up at the star-sprinkled sky. The Lady Luck was gliding through the sea at a smooth and steady pace, and they were due to arrive at Brandel’s Reach by the morning. Fenris knew he should get some sleep before the arduous activities of tomorrow’s careening and scraping, but with the thoughts roiling through his mind right now, he was certain he wouldn’t be able to sleep.

He gazed idly at the stars and listened to the distant soft chatter of the sailors who were on shift tonight. Some time later, when his mind was starting to drift from agitation to a more relaxed sort of gloom, a soft glow of orange light and a soft padding of approaching footsteps caught his attention. 

“Fenris–! Oh shit, are you sleeping?” Hawke’s tentative voice trailed off, and Fenris opened his eyes.

She was carrying an oil lamp and a book, and her pretty face was squinched in apology. Fenris sighed, then propped himself up on his elbows. “Come,” he said tiredly. “I wasn’t asleep.”

She tiptoed closer to him, then sat down on the deck beside him. “Sorry,” she whispered. “I couldn’t sleep, so I thought I would just read for a bit. I didn’t know you’d be here.” 

He grunted. He truly couldn’t decide if he was pleased or dismayed to see her. His rapidly beating heart was saying something entirely different from the nervous roiling in his stomach. 

She placed her book on her lap, then gave him a cheeky smile. “I’m close to the end of my book, but since you’re here, maybe I’ll just stare at you instead. You’re much more dreamy than the hero in this book, anyway.”

He huffed and looked away. “If you’re looking to be entertained, you’re better off with your book.”

“I don’t know, Fenris,” she said playfully. “You can be quite entertaining. The breeze flicking through your hair, the starlight shining in your eyes…” 

He shot her a flat look. “I take it back. You should stop reading those books,” he said. “They’re giving you unrealistic notions.”

“Unrealistic notions like what?” she said with a grin.

He raised one eyebrow. “You can’t see the starlight shining in my eyes.”

She tutted. “True. Fine then, the orange glow of lamplight shining in your eyes…” 

Her smile was broad and teasing, and it made his heart flip. Fenris smirked and lay back on the deck. “You’re an idiot,” he said.

She laughed. “Only for you, Fenris. Only for you.” She opened her book, and they were both silent for a minute as she started to read and Fenris tried to calm his racing pulse.

Then Hawke spoke again. “Seriously though, am I disturbing you? I can go somewhere else.”

He hesitated for a moment, then shook his head. “No. It’s fine.” 

“You sure?” she said. “I don’t want to disturb your, er… what are you doing?”

_Thinking of you,_ he thought painfully. _I can think of little else._

He glanced sideways at her. “I am… looking at the stars,” he said finally. 

Her eyes widened. “Oh yes? Do you know the constellations?”

He frowned. “Of course. Don’t you…?” He broke off. Of course she didn’t know the constellations. Why would she? 

She grimaced and confirmed his suspicions. “I know them by name and I know some of the mythology, but I can’t identify them in the sky.” She gave him a winsome smile. “Can you show them to me?”

He gave her an appraising look, then shrugged. “All right.” 

“Great!” she chirped. “Ah, more teaching from Fenris. Not a treat that I expected when coming out onto the deck in the middle of the night.” She put her book aside, then laid down beside him on the deck, and a leap of apprehension made him freeze for a moment. 

She was so close to him, close enough to touch if one of them shifted over just a few inches, and Fenris’s skin instantly began to feel itchy from her nearness. Of course she would have to lie down beside him for this to work, but he’d failed to account for how breathtaking and _terrifying_ her proximity would be.

She smiled at him. “I’m ready. Where do we start?”

He tore his eyes away from her, then swallowed hard and pointed at the sky. “That star there. The large bright one. You see that?”

“Yes,” she said.

He folded his hands on his belly. “That is the Ocularum Draconis. The Dragon’s Eye. All the other main constellations fan out around that star in a circumferential pattern.”

“Ooh, important star. Got it.” She folded her arms behind her head, and Fenris tried not to notice the alluring slopes of her body beneath her loose shirt.

He cleared his throat and pointed at the sky once more. “That is Tenebrium. The Shadow. Those stars are meant to be the wings of an owl.” He pointed to a different cluster of stars. “That is Fenrir, the White Wolf.”

“Fenrir…” She glanced thoughtfully at him. “Fenris, does your name mean something to do with wolves?”

He frowned slightly as she went on. “Fenrir, Fenris, Merrill’s story about Fen’Harel… I know they’re not the same language, but it seems like a big coincidence. Is that where your name comes from?”

He licked his lips and considered not answering her question. If he told her the truth of this, it might lead to her asking other questions about his name, and he couldn’t… he didn’t want to go there. He wasn’t ready.

He opened his mouth. “Yes,” he said. “Fenris means… it means ‘little wolf’.”

She turned her head to look at him more fully. “You don’t like your name?”

He huffed quietly. He supposed his feelings were obvious from the flatness of his tone. “Not… particularly, no,” he said. In truth, he’d hated the name ever since Danarius had gleefully given it to him on the same day he’d torn him away from his family. But Fenris had been able to tolerate the condescending nickname because his sister called him something else. 

_Leto._ His real name. The name that nobody used anymore, not since Varania left.

Hawke nodded, oblivious to his anguished thoughts. “I get that,” she said. “I used to not like my name when I was a child. It seemed so plain compared to the other girls.” She looked up at the stars again. “But I like it now. It’s short and to the point.”

_Fenris is not my given name,_ he thought. The words sat at the back of his tongue just waiting to be released, but if he said this to her, it would invite more intimate questions, and having her lying here beside him was intimate enough. 

He pointed at the sky once more. “That is Servani. The Chained Man. Also known as the Slave.”

She shot him a quick apprehensive glance, but he didn’t look at her. He pointed to another arrangement of stars. “That is Silentir. The Tevinter god of silence. Those strings of stars there represent a dragon’s wings.” He folded his hands on his abdomen once more. “If you are lost at sea, you can direct your ship straight between the wings of Silentir and toward the Ocularum Draconis to head due south.”

“Wow,” she said quietly. They lay together in silence for a moment, then Hawke turned her head to look at him. “Did Dorian teach you this?”

He frowned quizzically at her, and she waved at the sky. “The constellations. How to navigate with them. Did Dorian teach you when you joined the Lady Luck?”

He hesitated. He could say yes; it was a reasonable guess, and confirming it was a simple lie that wouldn’t invite further questions. But Hawke’s face was so earnest, and she was so open with him, and before he could stop himself, he was inadvertently giving her yet another piece of his life.

“No,” he said. “I spent some time on a Seheronese fishing trawler when I first escaped from Minrathous. A few months. They taught me the basics of sailing.”

Her eyes widened. “You were on a fishing boat? But I thought…”

He bluntly cut her off. “The fishing boat was raided by Tevinter pirates. The fishermen were killed, and I was taken as a slave. For the second time.”

Her face fell. “Fuck,” she breathed. 

He nodded silently, and Hawke eventually turned her gaze to the sky. A tense minute later, she spoke again. “And that’s when Piper freed you?”

“Yes,” he said quietly. “A year later.”

She exhaled slowly. Then, a moment later, she rolled onto her side to face him. 

He swallowed hard. “What?” he said defensively. Her face had that look she sometimes had, that soft look that made him want to crawl into her arms and shut himself in his cabin at the same time.

She nibbled her full lower lip, and Fenris braced himself for her unwanted pity. But what she actually said was worse than pity. 

“I just think you’re amazing,” she said.

He stopped breathing and stared at her. Hawke’s eyes… they were dark but brilliant from the lamplight, and her face was so full of obvious affection that he had to look away. He swallowed hard, then looked up at the stars, skin crawling from her undeserved praise. Despite her claims of humour and her general flattery of the entire crew, he knew Hawke meant it when she said she saw him as some sort of romance hero. She thought he was someone strong and brave who fought evil men. But the only time Fenris had ever done anything truly bold was when he’d killed Danarius with his bare hands.

The silence stretched horribly between them, and Fenris’s jaw began to ache from clenching his teeth. Then Hawke let out a nervous little laugh. “Well. I, um… I’ll leave you alone to your stargazing.”

She pushed herself into a sitting position, and his heart thumped with disappointment and relief. _You don’t need to go,_ he thought, but he said nothing. 

Hawke, meanwhile, was still talking. “I should really finish this book,” she said. “Piper wants it back.”

Fenris raised an eyebrow. “She does?” The book Hawke was holding looked pristine and untouched; it was unlikely Piper had ever read it. 

Hawke smiled cheekily. “No. She thinks this romance crap is, well, crap. She told me to keep it or else it would go back to being a coaster for her steins of ale.”

Fenris huffed in amusement, and Hawke’s smile widened. Then she pushed herself to her feet. “Goodnight, Fenris,” she said softly. She picked up her oil lamp and turned away.

_Stay,_ he thought. But he didn’t say it. 

She started walking away, and Fenris raised himself on one elbow to watch her leave, regret and longing and self-recrimination beating in his mind as his cowardly tongue failed to call her back. Once she was gone, he lay back on the deck once more and closed his eyes.

Piper was right about one thing: if he and Hawke continued to live in this thinly-veiled farce of friendship, he was going to go insane. But he didn’t know what to do. How was he supposed to tell Hawke how he felt when his cowardice choked him? How was he supposed to accept the affection she so obviously wanted to give him when the losses of his past were looming over his shoulder?

He opened his eyes and stared hopelessly at the stars. Something would have to change. He and Hawke couldn’t go on like this forever. But in order for things to change, Fenris would have to do something he didn’t want to do.

He would have to take a risk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BEHOLD, THE ARTICLES OF THE LADY LUCK. This is what Cullen and Rylen are reading in this chapter’s art. FUCKING NERDS.
> 
> ... WAIT WHAT WAS THAT LAST RULE XD
> 
> Piperford fluff and smut tomorrow! Stay tuned!
> 
> I am [Pikapeppa on Tumblr,](https://pikapeppa.tumblr.com/) and our artist and creator is the lovely and talented [Schoute!](https://schoute.tumblr.com/) Drop by and say hello!


	20. Tales

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is EXTRA-FLUFFY PIPERFORD for Schoute, who deserves it after a LONG WEEK. xoxoxo

###  CULLEN 

Rylen wiped his forehead on his arm and smiled at Cullen. “Our second official day on a pirate crew, and what are we doing but an honest day’s work?” he said jokingly.

Cullen smiled tiredly in return. “Truthfully, I can’t complain. It’s been years since I have done anything this menial, and I’m rather enjoying it.” He lowered his aching arms for a moment, then fondly patted the section of the Lady Luck’s hull that he was diligently cleaning of barnacles and other debris. 

Rylen chuckled and shook his head, then took a sip from his waterskin before picking up his scraper once more. “All that desk duty really was wearing on you, wasn’t it, sir?”

Cullen gave him a chiding look. “Rylen, there’s no need for ceremony any longer. Please call me Cullen.”

Rylen smiled and went back to scraping the hull. “I’ll try, sir. But it might take some time to change my ways.”

Cullen shot him a quizzical smirk – it was difficult to tell sometimes if Rylen was having him on or not – then picked up his own scraping tool and continued to shuck the barnacles and algae from the side of the ship. 

Some time later, when it was close to noon, Piper traipsed over to join them with her own scraper in hand. Her hair was gathered into a messy braid, and her shirt was damp with sweat and clinging to her slender curves in a very tempting fashion. 

“All right, men, time for a break,” she announced. “I don’t want anyone falling over from the heat. We’ll get back to it in a couple of hours.”

Rylen lowered his scraper with a sigh and saluted Piper, then smirked when she playfully smacked the back of his head. “Get out of here, you,” she said to him. “Go find some shade.” Then she skipped over to Cullen and wrapped an arm around his waist. 

“Come with me?” she said. “There’s a spot in the jungle I want to show you.” She gave him a winning smile and patted the rough canvas ditty bag on her shoulder. “I have snacks and drinks.”

“I hope you mean water and not just rum?” he said.

She grinned and poked him in the belly. “Cheeky boy. Yes, I have both water and rum. Now come on.” She took his hand and tugged him along the beach toward a small stream that led from the ocean into the jungle. 

They followed the stream into the jungle, and eventually it branched into two broader rivers. Piper confidently pulled him along the river branch that wound along in a westerly direction, and Cullen happily followed in her wake, admiring both the verdant lushness of the jungle and the bright silvery hair of the woman who was holding his hand. 

The afternoon was hot and humid, however, and it wasn’t long before Cullen was starting to think rather wistfully of the waterskins that Piper was carrying in her bag. Just as he was about to ask for a drink, he heard the distinctive rushing sound of a waterfall. 

Piper smiled at him. “Come on,” she said excitedly, and she pulled him along at a faster pace, her bare elven feet nearly silent as they picked through the ferns and moss with the familiarity of long practice. A few minutes later, they stepped into a small clearing featuring a beautiful little waterfall and a small but temptingly clear pool of fresh water. 

Piper released his hand and waved grandly at the lovely scene. “Welcome to the Piper Pool!”

Cullen raised his eyebrows. “Did you discover this pool?”

She shrugged carelessly. “All right, no. It’s called Brandel’s Oasis. But I like the Piper Pool better.” She put down her ditty bag, then started unbraiding her hair. “And before you ask: no, the rest of the crew won’t show up.”

“Why?” Cullen asked in surprise.

“Because I told them I was bringing you here,” she said. She shot him a wicked grin, then peeled her shirt off. 

As always, she was naked beneath her shirt, and a jolt of surprise and desire pulsed through his belly as she pushed back the mass of her silvery hair. She briskly laid her shirt in a brilliant patch of sun that had managed to cut through the canopy, then faced him with a sly smile.

“Come swimming with me,” she said. She began unbuttoning her breeches.

Cullen snapped his mouth shut, but he couldn’t stop his wayward eyes from roving over her pert little breasts and the tattoos that framed them. “You… you’re certain no one else will come here?” he said feebly.

She shoved her breeches and smalls down to her ankles and kicked them away, leaving her completely naked. “Cullen, the only people who will be _coming_ here this afternoon are you and me.” She twisted her finger coyly in a curl of hair. “If you want, of course. It’s up to you.”

He swallowed hard. Her smile was wicked but her hazel eyes were soft, and already his manhood was stiffening in his trousers. When his gormless tongue failed to find an adequate response, she grinned at him, then turned away and dove into the shallow pool with a delicate splash. 

A moment later, her head broke the surface. She slicked her hair back and smiled at him. “Well, Golden Boy? Are you going to come and cool off?”

He unpeeled his tongue from the roof of his mouth and nodded. “Yes, of course,” he said. He hastily pulled off his boots and shirt, but when it came to his trousers, he paused for a moment and looked around nervously. He believed Piper when she said the rest of the crew wouldn’t appear, but what about other pirates on the island? They hadn’t seen any other ships in the bay, but that didn’t mean that no one was docked elsewhere around the island. And even if no one else was around, well… Cullen had never swum naked before. It seemed rather… exposed.

A sudden shock of cool water splashed the side of his face. He flinched, then shot Piper an affronted look. “Pardon me. Do you mind?”

“Not at all,” she said gleefully. “Not one bit. Come on, Cullen. It’s very cool and comfortable here.” She floated shamelessly on the surface of the pool, giving him a full view of her naked body. 

He admired her for another moment, then finally unlaced his trousers. With only a small hint of trepidation, he pushed them down and folded them neatly before turning to face the pool once more. 

Piper was treading water, and her eyes were sliding salaciously over his body like a heated caress. By the time her eyes had made their leisurely way back up to his face, his cheeks were burning. 

He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, and Piper laughed. “You’re adorable when you’re shy,” she said. She patted the surface of the pool. “Come on in, the water’s fine. And contrary to what Varric likes to say, there aren’t any sharks.”

“I should hope not, since it is a freshwater pool,” Cullen said. He approached the rocky edge of the pool, then carefully stepped into the water. 

The water was perfectly cool, exactly as Piper had promised, and Cullen sighed in relief as he sank into the water up to his neck. He closed his eyes tightly and submerged himself, then rose to the surface and ran his hands over his hair. Before he could open his eyes, Piper’s hands were sliding over his shoulders.

He opened his eyes. She was beaming at him, and her obvious happiness made his heart thump with an answering pulse of joy. He settled his feet on the sandy floor of the pool, and an instant later, her legs were curled around his waist and her arms were tight around his neck.

His manhood settled snugly between her legs, and he exhaled shakily and slid his hands over the cool curves of her hips. “This is… very nice,” he said lamely. 

She chuckled softly and threaded her fingers through his wet hair. “Yes, it is,” she whispered. She nuzzled his nose, then licked the water from his bottom lip. 

He sighed against her lips. Her tongue was delicate and warm as it traced his lips, and when she gently tugged his lower lip with her teeth, his breath caught in his throat. 

He pressed his hips eagerly into hers. Her skin was soft and the vee of her thighs was the perfect cradle for his manhood, but he wanted to feel her heat. 

“Piper,” he breathed.

“Mm?” She licked his lower lip once more, then moved her lips to his neck.

A helpless little groan left his throat, coaxed by the firm stroke of her tongue as she licked the tendon in his neck. He tilted his head to the side in a wordless request, and she indulged him by trailing her mouth along the side of his throat. 

He floated happily in the feeling of her weightless embrace and her cool lips on his neck, then gathered his wits enough to speak once more. “Let’s… let’s move to… another place,” he said distractedly. “I want to lay you down.”

She pulled away from him with a grin. “Lay me down, hmm? And then what will you do with me?”

He blinked. Did she want him to try that naughty talk? He liked it very much when she did it, but he wasn’t entirely sure he had the, er… _confidence_ to effectively return the favour. 

“I…” He faltered, then walked her toward the edge of the pool. He made sure he was supporting her weight before emerging from the pool, then laid her down on a soft-looking patch of moss and ferns. 

He stretched out over her bare body and smoothed the wet hair away from her chest. “I’d like to, er…” He hesitated, then tried again. “You’re very warm and soft.”

She bit her lower lip and leisurely stretched her arms, lifting her breasts toward him in the process. “Warm where, exactly?”

He raised an eyebrow at her. She was clearly trying to bait him. 

He took a deep breath to gather his courage. “Here,” he said. He ran his fingers along the inside of her thigh, then stroked the tempting place between her legs. 

She jerked, and her lips dropped open on a gasp of pleasure. She tilted her hips toward his hand, and Cullen avidly watched her face as he took her precious heat on his fingers. With every eager jerk of her hips, his blood seemed to pulse more strongly toward the apex of his thighs, and with every beat of his pulse, his boldness grew stronger until he finally found the bravery to speak again.

He slid the pad of his finger over the swollen little pearl between her legs. “I would like to taste you here,” he said. “If I may.”

Her rapturous face transformed into a grin, and she burst out a breathless little laugh. “I’ll forgive your precious manners if you do exactly that,” she said. She pushed his shoulder, urging him to move down between her legs. 

Cullen smiled at her and happily fulfilled her command, savouring the freshness of the water gracing her thighs and the sweetness between her legs. She twisted and bucked impatiently beneath his mouth, but Cullen was patient and careful, watching the language of her body until she was trembling and crying out her satisfaction in a hoarse but rapturous voice. 

A heartbeat later, she was grabbing his arm and shoving him down on his back on the soft patch of moss. Cullen panted breathlessly as she straddled him, and – and then –

He grabbed her hips. “Maker’s breath,” he whimpered. He was inside of her and her heat was surrounding him, that heat that he wanted so much when they were drifting in the pool together, and her palms were braced on his abdomen as she rolled her hips over his in a forceful grind. 

He gritted his teeth and tried to lift his hips to thrust into her, but her movements were too smooth, too sinuous. She impatiently tossed her head, then smiled down at him. “Pull me closer, Golden Boy,” she panted. 

He groaned in pleasure as she lifted and lowered herself on his manhood. “Wh-what do you mean?” he said distractedly. 

“Pull me closer,” she breathed. “Move me how you want me. You want to fuck me harder?” She took his hands in hers, then placed them on her bottom. “Then fuck me harder. Hold me and fuck me.” 

A fresh rush of dizzying lust pulsed through his limbs and down to his groin. He greedily settled his palms over the lovely globes of her backside, then pulled her hard against his body. 

She jolted and tossed her head back, then moved her hips smoothly in time with his guiding hands, and soon she was riding him in a smooth and rapid rhythm while he gasped helplessly, his eyes travelling shamelessly across the water-dappled expanse of her skin as his pleasure ratcheted higher with every piston-like thrust of her hips. 

He clenched his fingers in her smooth and lovely curves. “P-piper,” he groaned. “I… I’m–”

She kissed him, flattening her chest against his and cradling his neck in one palm as she continued to roll her hips over his, and Cullen moaned helplessly into the sleek heat of her tongue as his rapture rushed through his limbs. As the roiling pleasure of his climax abated, Piper relaxed completely on top of him with a happy sigh, and the uninhibited warmth and weight of her body on his somehow felt even better than their lovemaking. 

They lay together quietly for a lovely leisurely time. The jungle was rife with the soft sounds of silence, rustling leaves and humming insects and the occasional bird call, and Cullen contentedly listened to the sounds and ran his fingers through the wet silvery waves of Piper’s hair. 

She pushed herself off of his chest and smiled down at him. “I’m sweaty,” she announced. “I’m diving back in.” She kissed him firmly on the lips, then rolled off of his chest and jumped back in the pool.

Cullen watched fondly for a moment as she splashed around in the pool. He stood up and put his trousers back on, then sat down by her ditty bag and pulled out a waterskin. 

She glided to the edge of the pool and pulled herself out in one smooth motion. A moment later, she was stretched out beside him on her belly. 

“Pass me the dried apples, will you?” she said. “I’m starving.” 

He smiled helplessly at her. She was naked still and totally unselfconscious, and Cullen affectionately ran one hand over her bare tattooed back before digging the dried fruit out of her bag. She popped a piece of apple in her mouth and chewed it with obvious relish, and Cullen chuckled. 

“What?” she asked through a mouthful of fruit. “What’s funny?”

He shook his head slightly. “Nothing is funny. I was just thinking that… I admire you.”

She swallowed her food, then grinned at him and lifted one shoulder coyly. “Admire me all you like, Golden Boy. I’m naked for your pleasure.”

His blasted ears started going warm, and her smile broadened, but Cullen refused to be sidetracked. “I don’t simply mean your beauty,” he said. “I mean the way you embrace… everything. These rations,” he said with a gesture at the plain dried fruit that she was enjoying so much. “Your life on the sea. It’s not an easy life, but you make it seem so.”

She tilted her head curiously and picked out another piece of dried apple. “What do you mean?”

He toyed thoughtfully with the waterskin. “Well, scraping the hull, for instance. In the navy, we dreaded this task. We weren’t often required to do it since we frequently dry-docked, but when we did have to scrape the hull, it was a grim business. Heavy work for what seemed to be little payoff. But you and your crew…” He shook his head. “I have never seen sailors singing before while cleaning the hull of a ship. Bawdy songs, perhaps, but still.”

Piper laughed and waved one dismissive hand. “Oh, they’re just joshing around,” she said.

“That’s my point precisely,” he said. “They laugh while doing a notoriously difficult job. That’s not common in a navy crew.” And the difference, Cullen thought, was Piper herself. It hadn’t escaped his notice that Piper had spent the morning bouncing among all of her crew members, playfully insulting them and scuffling with them and generally fostering a sense of camaraderie – when she wasn’t helping to scrape the hull herself, that was.

“Well, we’re certainly no navy crew,” Piper said cheerfully. “We’re the crew of the Lady Luck! We’re – you know.” She made a vague hand gesture. “Part of the ship, part of the crew.” She smiled at him, then dropped her eyes to the piece of apple in her fingers.

Suddenly he understood. “They’re your family,” he said softly. “That’s why you work together so well.” 

She ruffed her hair idly. “Yeah. Yeah, they are.” She slowly pushed herself upright, and Cullen watched with a rush of tenderness as she started braiding the hair by her temple in that idle way she did sometimes when she was nervous. 

Sure enough, she shot Cullen a little smile. “That’s what Deshanna said to me the day he brought me onto the ship. ‘Welcome to the family,’ he said. He didn’t know me from shit; I was just some snot-nosed brat he pulled off the gallows, but he, uh… he took me in and treated me like one of his own.” She was silent until she finished the braid, then she unravelled the tiny plait and ran her fingers through her hair. “I always tried to follow his example. If you’re with my crew, you’re one of us.” She smiled at Cullen. “Just like _you’re_ one of us now.”

An unexpected ache squeezed his heart, and he couldn’t find the words to reply. Instead, he ran a hand over her damp hair, then leaned in and gently kissed her forehead. 

She tipped her chin up, and Cullen was more than happy to oblige her by kissing her delicately scarred lips. A long, leisurely moment later, she leaned back. “What about you, Cullen?” she asked. “What’s your family like? You mentioned your sister Mia, but you don’t talk about them very much.”

“Ah. Yes.” He cleared his throat. “My family is… loud.”

Piper barked out a surprised laugh, and Cullen winced. “I – I should clarify. I love my family very much. It’s just… growing up with three siblings–”

“Three!” Piper exclaimed.

“Yes, three,” he said ruefully. “There is Mia, then myself, then Branson and Rosalie. It was… difficult to find a place to think.” He shrugged and picked out a piece of dried apple. “You would think I would grow accustomed to the clamour, but I never quite did.”

Piper stretched out on her belly again with a cheeky smile. “So you joined the navy for the peace and quiet, then? And space?”

He smiled back at her. “Ironic, perhaps, I know.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I didn’t think of the, er, close quarters when I joined the navy. I simply wanted…” He trailed off for a moment as he tried to put his thoughts into words. “I liked the idea of having a purpose. A good one – one that protected people. And truthfully, the idea of such structure was… appealing, given the chaos I was accustomed to at home. The navy is nothing if not orderly.” He shot her a wry smile, then popped the piece of dried apple into his mouth.

Piper grinned at him and rolled onto her side. “Yet somehow, for someone who loves order so much, you’ve ended up with me.” She waved grandly at her naked body and her mass of rapidly drying – and expanding – hair.

He smiled at her as he chewed the dried fruit. Despite her image, Piper ran her ship in a much more orderly fashion than she gave herself credit for. But she would only crack a Mad Piper-style joke if he pointed this out. 

He swallowed his apple, then ran his fingers through the chaotic waves of her hair. “Some things are more important than order,” he told her truthfully. 

She beamed at him, then took his hand and kissed his knuckles. He squeezed her fingers, then released her hand to select another slice of apple. “You’re not wrong about the sense of family, however. I think I took for granted that I would have that sort of… bond with my comrades in the navy. But I never quite found it on the Kinloch. Or the Bronach, for that matter.”

“Have you found it with us?” Piper asked.

“I believe I have,” he said softly. “I have found it with you.”

She smiled at him again, then shyly ducked her head and tucked her hair behind her ear. When she met his eye once more, her cheeks were slightly rosy. “I’ve decided where I want to go next,” she said abruptly.

He raised his eyebrows, mildly surprised by the change of subject. “Where?”

“To the Rialto Bay,” she said.

Cullen smiled chidingly at her. “Rialto again?”

She laughed, then pushed herself upright once more. “No, to Rialto _Bay_. We’ll visit the elven colonies,” she said. Then, to Cullen’s pleasure, she straddled his lap and draped her arms around his neck. “There’s someone I’d like you to meet.”

He slid his hands over her bare hips, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from her face. Her expression was earnest and her eyes were bright and soft, and she was so breathtakingly lovely – not just her precious face, and not just her bold bare body, but everything about her: her kindness and her impudence, her spontaneity and her discipline, her sense of adventure and her protectiveness… Maker’s breath, she was lovely and _loved_ , both by her crew and by Cullen himself, and with his elven lover sprawled across his lap, he felt so much at home that it was hard to believe that they had only known each other for a year.

He pulled her closer on his lap, then stroked her hair. “I would be honoured to meet anyone you wish to introduce me to,” he said.

Her smile crinkled the corners of her eyes. She leaned in to kiss him, and Cullen held her close and sank blissfully into her embrace. He knew they couldn’t remain in this blissful little oasis forever; the Lady Luck needed maintenance, and the crew needed their bold and beloved leader. But as long as he had Piper here in his arms, he would savour every moment of relaxation and peace that they could find. 

**************************

One leisurely week later, Piper and Cullen rowed onto the shore of a small sheltered inlet a few kilometres north of Afsaana on the Rialto Bay.

Cullen looked around curiously as he stepped off of the dinghy and onto the shore. The inlet was secluded; instead of docks, there were a few plain but well-maintained wooden posts driven deep into the sand for tying off rowboats. The beach melted into a lush-looking forest that crept up the steep cliffs surrounding the inlet, and the only signs of habitation were the posts on the beach and a subtle pathway leading along the northeast edge of the beach into the forest. 

Piper shrugged innocently as she tied the dinghy to one of the wooden posts. “All I’m saying is that it’s a good opportunity for them to find some time alone.”

Cullen shot her a chiding little smile as he lifted their ditty bags from the floor of the dinghy. “They are hardly alone. The rest of the crew is visiting Afsaana as well.”

“Yes, but I’ll bet you that Rynne and Fen will end up going off on their own at some point,” Piper said confidently. “And the docks in Afsaana have a great view to the east – perfect for a romantic sunrise after staying up all night…” She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively.

Cullen shook his head in amusement. He could imagine Fenris’s disapproving scowl all too clearly in his mind’s eye. 

He stepped out of the dinghy and onto the shore. “Perhaps _we_ should go to Afsaana to admire the sunrise,” he suggested.

She grinned and took his hand as they walked along the beach. “Lucky you. That’s exactly what I had in mind after this little visit.” 

Cullen followed her along the narrow little path that led into the forest. They walked one behind the other for some time, and it soon became clear to Cullen that although this path was unpaved or unmarked in any obvious way, it was a well-established route to those who knew it: Piper led the way confidently, following forks and turns through the forest with an ease that spoke of long familiarity.

About half an hour later, the trees began to thin. Eventually the forest melted into a small but lovely valley, and Cullen raised his eyebrows in appreciation. 

The valley was a tidy farmland. It looked to be just over an acre in size, and it boasted a mixture of fruit trees and vegetable gardens and a small pen with chickens and hogs. A cluster of rustic but cozy-looking cabins sat on the flattest part of the valley to the east. Elves were working in the fields, harvesting produce and tending the animals, and a gaggle of barefoot elven children were kicking a ball around in a sand-filled playing field to the west. 

Cullen took it all in with wide eyes. “This has been here for only three years?” he said incredulously.

“No, no,” Piper corrected. “He’s just lived here for three years, since he retired. This settlement has been here for… a couple decades, I think? I can’t remember exactly.” She took his hand. “Come on. He’s going to be so surprised to meet you.”

Cullen raised his eyebrows. “Surprised? Why?”

“Because you’re the only human in this whole settlement, for one thing,” she said with a grin. “And also, well…” She shot him a slightly shifty look, but before she could finish her thought, the door to the nearest cabin opened. 

A tall elven man stepped onto the porch and propped his fists on his hips. He had long dark dreadlocks, and a huge smile was stretched across his rugged tattooed face. 

“Mad Piper!” he boomed. “What’ve you brought me here? A strapping young man to work the fields?” 

Piper rolled her eyes, but a broad grin was lighting up her face as well. “Nice try, you bilgey old seadog. He’s _my_ strapping young man.”

The elven man boomed out a loud belly laugh, then strode over to them and clapped Piper on the shoulder. “He must be something special, then. You’ve never brought a fellow to visit us before.” 

Cullen looked at her in surprise. “You haven’t?”

She shrugged casually, but her cheeks were turning pink. “Nope. You’re, um… you’re the first.”

He stared at her speechlessly for a moment as the true significance of this visit struck him. Then the elven man stuck out his hand to shake. 

“I’m Deshanna,” he declared. “What should I call you?”

Cullen smiled nervously and shook Deshanna’s hand. “Cullen. Cullen Rutherford. It’s an honour–”

Piper lightly smacked his arm. “No manners necessary, Golden Boy. Especially not for the likes of this salty old sailor.” 

Deshanna laughed again. “I missed you too, seapup. Come on over here.” He opened his arms, and a moment later Piper was hugging the former captain hard while he clapped her heartily on the back. 

Cullen smiled at them as they broke apart. Then Deshanna hooked arm around their shoulders and tugged them toward the cabin. “You must be hungry after your trek through the woods there. Aemeris!” he called out. “Look who’s here, and with a suitor, no less!”

“Suitor,” Piper scoffed. “Who uses words like that? How old are you?”

Deshanna snorted in amusement. “Young enough still to run rings around you with a good sharp épée.” He released them both as he stepped onto the porch, then elbowed Cullen affably. “I hope she told you I taught her everything there is to know about swordsmanship.”

Cullen opened his mouth to reply, but Piper was already answering. “I didn’t tell him that, because that would be a big fat lie,” she said gleefully. She kicked off her boots, then sauntered into the cabin and plopped down comfortably on a worn but cozy-looking divan. “Yann taught me a good seventy percent of it.” 

Deshanna sobered slightly. “Ah. You’re right, Falon’Din guide his soul. Must give credit where it’s due. He certainly trained your stubborn ass well.” 

Piper snickered, and Deshanna chuckled as well before chivvying Cullen into the main room of the cabin with a hand on his back. “Come on in, boy. Make yourself at home. My lady wife is somewhere in the back–”

“I’m right here,” a gentle Tevene-accented voice said. “And you’re being far too loud. You woke the baby.” A slender black-haired elf entered the main room with an equally raven-haired toddler in her arms and a chiding smile on her face. 

Piper perked up. “Ah, the little bean!” she announced. “Let’s have a look at him.” She reached for the child and shot Cullen a quick but brilliant smile. “Cullen, come over here and meet Jos. The finest little pirate-to-be you’ll ever meet.” 

The toddler cooed happily and reached for Piper. Aemeris clicked her tongue playfully as she handed him to Piper. “This child. I’m always second fiddle when you come to play.” 

“Good,” Piper cooed. “Then my ploy to lure him to the Lady Luck is working. Isn’t it, Jossie?” She winked at Aemeris and bounced the chortling toddler on her knee for a moment, then looked up at Cullen with a smile. “Are you all right?”

Cullen swallowed hard. He was feeling embarrassingly soppy, and he couldn’t decide whether it was because of Piper’s cozy familiarity with Deshanna and Aemeris and chubby little Jos, or because Piper had wanted to include him in this wonderful familial scene. 

He quickly gathered himself and nodded. “I’m fine,” he said. “Perfectly fine.” 

Piper’s smile became tender, and Cullen gazed back at her adoringly. Then Deshanna laughed and patted Cullen’s shoulder. “Come, my boy, take a seat and tell us how you met and wooed this wildwoman of the seas.” He pushed Cullen down beside Piper on the divan, then sauntered over to the hearth and started preparing a kettle. 

Piper smiled wickedly at him, and he nervously smiled back and rubbed his neck. “To be perfectly honest, I would say it was Piper who wooed me,” Cullen said.

Deshanna threw his head back and laughed, and Aemeris chuckled and folded her arms. “That doesn’t surprise us at all.”

Piper playfully stuck her tongue out at Aemeris. “I’ll take that as a compliment,” she said.

“You should,” Aemeris replied warmly as she sat on Piper’s other side. “But please, tell us the tale. It’s not everyday Piper brings a fellow home.” She looked quizzically at Deshanna. “Not ever before, in fact.”

Piper rolled her eyes. “Ah, just keep calling me out, why don’t you,” she muttered. But she was smiling, and her expression was coy as she shot Cullen a sideways look, and his heart throbbed at this confirmation of her affection. 

He took her hand and twined his fingers with hers. “Well, I… I was a commander in the Kirkwall Navy,” he began. 

Aemeris’s and Deshanna’s faces slackened in surprise, and Piper smiled smugly at them both. “He’s the best thing I ever stole from the navy,” she announced.

Cullen looked at her in alarm. “Wait. Does that mean you have stolen other things from the navy?”

She widened her eyes innocently, and Deshanna burst out another rolling laugh. “All right, boy, let’s hear the tale,” he said cheerfully.

Piper smiled winningly, and Cullen gave her chiding look before turning to Deshanna and Aemeris. “It began with a bar brawl. One that Piper started.” 

Deshanna, Aemeris and Piper laughed, and Cullen went on. “It took two of my bolder lieutenants to restrain her and bring her in. But once we heard her story, it turned out that the brawl began because Piper was protecting a serving girl from a group of rather… unscrupulous men.” 

“Good girl,” Deshanna said heartily, and Piper playfully saluted him.

Cullen smiled and relaxed back into the divan. “When my men went back to the tavern to confirm the tale and found it to be true, I… well, I released Piper with a warning not to return.” He raised an eyebrow at her. “And of course, she didn’t listen.”

“And miss the chance to have you cuffing my wrists again with those big strong hands of yours? Not a chance,” she purred. 

Cullen ducked his head bashfully and glanced at Piper’s surrogate father, but Deshanna only chuckled and shook his head, so Cullen continued the tale. “Well… yes. Um, Piper continued to, er, to return to Kirkwall after that. And every time she visited, she got into some sort of trouble and ended up in jail.” He smiled faintly at her. “Somehow, despite her constant tomfoolery, we… we became friends.”

Aemeris raised her eyebrows. “You befriended a pirate? Despite your… station?”

He nodded. “I did not intend to, but I did. Piper was… _is_ unlike any pirate I had ever had the misfortune to meet before. She…” He trailed off and looked at her smiling face. _You are unlike anyone I have ever met,_ he thought, but he was too shy to say so in front of her family.

Deshanna, however, seemed to understand. His smile was warm as he clapped Cullen on the shoulder and sat in a wicker chair beside him. “Well, I for one am glad that our girl stole you from the navy.”

“Me too,” Piper said fervently. “He would have been dead as a doornail if I hadn’t.”

“What?” Aemeris exclaimed.

“It’s true,” Cullen said wryly. “Piper saved my life.”

Deshanna grinned and leaned back in his chair. “Well, now you have to tell this tale.”

Piper grinned at Cullen. “Can I?”

Cullen huffed in amusement. “I can imagine no one better to tell it.” He held out his arms to Jos. 

The toddler squealed and reached for Cullen’s face, and Piper beamed at him as she shifted Jos into his arms. Then she turned to look at Aemeris and Deshanna in turn. “It all started with an illicit visit to the Darktown docks in the dead of night…”

They spent the rest of the morning exchanging stories. Piper regaled her family with the entire lyrium saga in Kirkwall with occasional interjections from Cullen, and Deshanna took no small pleasure in telling stories of Piper’s youth on the Lady Luck, as well as the story of how he and Aemeris had fallen in love after he freed her from a slaver ship six years ago. 

As the morning melted into afternoon, Deshanna and Aemeris took Cullen on a tour of the settlement while Piper played dragons-and-nugs with a delightedly screaming Jos. By the time the evening rolled around to drape the orchards and vegetable gardens in the purpling shadows of dusk, Cullen was feeling almost as comfortable in the pleasant little settlement as he did on the Lady Luck.

Later that night, after Deshanna and Aemeris had settled in for the night with a sleeping Jos, Cullen and Piper lay together in the large hammock on Deshanna’s back porch. Piper’s fingers were drifting lazily over his chest, and the sound of crickets was competing only with the soft sound of the breeze filtering through the leaves. 

“Thank you,” Cullen said softly.

She chuckled and shifted slightly to slide her leg more securely over his. “Always thanking me, Golden Boy. What’s it for this time?”

“For bringing me here,” he said. “Introducing me to your family.” 

She poked his chest. “You knew my family already. The whole crew.”

He glanced down at her. Her tone was playful, but she was averting her gaze in that way she did sometimes when their talks edged toward her childhood. 

He ran his fingers through her hair. “All the same,” he said softly. “It’s an honour to be here.”

She huffed in amusement and poked him again. “Always so polite.”

He smiled, and they lay in silence for a while longer. Then Piper suddenly sat up on her elbow and looked him in the eye. 

“I love you,” she said abruptly. “You know that, right?” 

Her tone was blunt but her expression was oddly vulnerable, and Cullen stared at her besottedly for a moment before finding his tongue. “Of course,” he said clumsily. “I–”

“Good,” she said. She laid her head on his chest again and nestled down so he couldn’t see her face.

An aching sort of affection filled his chest. He carefully shifted in the hammock so she was beneath him, then stroked her hair away from her youthful face. 

“Piper, I love you too. Very much,” he murmured.

She dropped her eyes shyly. “I know. I – I just… I didn’t say it before and I didn’t want you to think I don’t–”

“I know you do,” he said. “Of course I know.” How could she possibly think he didn’t know? She’d repeatedly risked death and prison to see him. She’d risked her life to save him and to clear his name, and she’d brought him to meet the family that no other partner had ever met. He didn’t need her to say she loved him, because she’d shown him time and time again. 

She shrugged. “Good. Because I don’t just, you know, throw those words around at everyone.” She gave him a stern look. “I have a reputation to maintain, you know. I’m scrappy Piper, not sappy Piper–”

He cut her off with a kiss. She wrapped her arms around him, and he clutched her close in turn, and soon they were twined together in a tangle of limbs and feet and long silvery hair. 

He cradled her cheek in his palm. “You’re Mad Piper, I know,” he murmured. “And I love you.”

She beamed at him. “I love you back, Golden Boy,” she whispered. “More than I can say.”

He smiled, then kissed her soft scarred lips once more. She didn’t need to say it, because she showed him every day. Of all the things Piper had shown him – the hospitality of her ship, the camaraderie of her crew, and the whirlwind world of Rialto – the open contents of her pirate’s heart were what he treasured the most.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before anyone can ask: NO, Pipes is not planned to have a little curly-haired baby in this fic. CAPTAIN MAD PIPER HAS A WHOLE WORLD TO SEE, AIN’T GOT NO TIME FOR A BABY. Doesn’t mean that we (AND CULLEN) can’t enjoy her being all squishy about kids, though. XD
> 
> Bonus art of a younger Piper and Papa Deshanna! As Schoute said: "Deshanna, you should thank Piper. She prepared you for parenthood." HAHAHAHAH
> 
> FenRynne galore next week! What are they up to in Afsaana? O_o
> 
> I am [Pikapeppa on Tumblr,](https://pikapeppa.tumblr.com/) and our wonderful artist is the ever-talented [Schoute!](https://schoute.tumblr.com/) xoxo


	21. Together

###  RYNNE 

Rynne hopped off the rowboat and onto the dock, then looked around in fascination. Afsaana was the most unusual town she had ever seen. Not to say she had much experience with new places – Rialto was still the only other town she’d seen aside from Kirkwall – but still, a town whose charming stilted homes climbed up the surrounding tree-covered hills and into the verdant mountains seemed unusual to her naive eye.

“Another town, another adventure!” she said cheerfully. She clasped her hands and looked excitedly at Fenris, Anders, Varric and Dorian. “So what is there to do here? What do you recommend?” 

Sera ran over to join them. “Oi! Got a word from a barmaid who got it from a beachcomber who got it from some kid with a fish. Darts competition at The Bed and The Bucket, the pot’s twenty royals! Last one there’s already lost!” She ran away without waiting for an answer.

Anders shrugged. “Not a bad pot. I think I’d have a pretty good chance at that.” 

“Darts in a tavern? That’s hardly original,” Dorian said disdainfully. He carefully smoothed a crease from his silk pants as he stepped onto the dock. “There’s a marvelous tailor in the upper town square. I’m going straight there. Fenris, you should join me.”

Fenris grunted. “I don’t need tailored clothing. It is a wasteful expense.” 

Dorian tutted. “My friend, you’re a pirate. Every coin you spend should be a wasteful expense.”

Varric patted Dorian’s elbow. “Ah, let the elf off the hook, huh? He has barely any coin at all. Not since the gambling incident in Rialto.” He grinned at Rynne. 

Rynne winced apologetically at Fenris, who was crouched on the dock tying the rowboat in place. “I’m still sorry about that, by the way. Funny how quickly an entire pouch of coin disappears when you’re playing wicked grace for the first time while, er, drunk.”

Fenris finished tying off the boat, then stood up. “There’s nothing to be sorry for. It was worth–” He broke off with a frown. “It’s fine.”

Varric smirked, and Dorian folded his arms. “Let me get this straight,” he said archly. “A perfectly tailored garment is a wasteful expense, but allowing the Lady Luck’s assistant surgeon to fritter away all of your coin during a debauched night of gambling is justifiable?”

Fenris’s scowl deepened. Rynne laughed and fanned herself. “Dorian, don’t you know that no one can resist my charms? It’s not Fenris’s fault that I batted my eyelashes and divested him of his coin.” She sidled up to Dorian and slipped her hand through his elbow. “In fact, since _you’re_ clearly swimming in silver, Piper mentioned that there’s a lovely bookshop in this town that’s screaming for a visit…”

Dorian snorted in amusement and unhooked her arm from his. “A solid try, my dear Hawke, but you’re barking up the wrong tree.”

She widened her eyes. “How can you be the wrong tree when you’re such a delight to look at? The divine hair, the perfect wardrobe, the exquisite complexion…”

Anders coughed out a laugh at her ostentatious compliments, and Dorian rolled his eyes. “You and your flattery,” he scolded. “It’s positively shameful.” He dug a silver out of his fine leather coin pouch and flicked it at her. 

She grinned as she caught the coin. “And yet you keep rewarding me,” she said. Then she turned to Fenris and ceremoniously held out the coin. 

“A start on repaying my debt to you,” she said mock-seriously. 

“Excuse me,” Dorian protested. “If I knew you’d waste that by giving it to _him_ , I wouldn’t have handed it over.”

Fenris raised an eyebrow, then unfolded his arms and took the coin from her hand. “As long as this aggravates Dorian, I am happy to accept.”

Dorian tutted, then tapped Varric’s shoulder. “You’ll come to the tailor with me, won’t you?”

“No can do, Sparkler,” Varric said affably. “I’ve got business to attend to. At that bookshop, in fact,” he said to Rynne. “You’re welcome to tag along.”

“I wanted to look for a particular volume too, actually,” Anders said. “I’ll come with you.” He looked at Rynne hopefully. “Coming, Hawke?” 

Fenris folded his arms and shifted closer to her. “There is a group of Rivaini dancers who perform regularly at this time in the lower town square,” he said quietly. 

She looked at him excitedly. “Dancing? Really?” She tilted her head. “ _You_ enjoy watching the dancers? Are they sexy dancers?” She wiggled her eyebrows salaciously. 

He shrugged. “I simply thought you might be interested.” 

It was on the tip of Rynne’s tongue to say yes, but for a split second, she hesitated. She’d recently started wondering if she was spending too much time with Fenris. During her first couple of weeks on the Lady Luck, it had become her habit to spend most of her spare time with him. But given their conflicting desires – or rather, the fact that Rynne’s desires weren’t reciprocated – gravitating toward Fenris was becoming more painful than pleasant, almost like drinking too much of that spicy hot chocolate that Merrill made sometimes. In truth, Rynne would probably be better off going to the bookshop with Varric and Anders instead of spending more agonizing time alone with the object of her unrequited affections. 

It was too late, though. Her tongue had hesitated for long enough, and her heart butted in and took the reins before her brain could step in. “Of course I’m interested,” she said to Fenris. “Dancers it is.” She grimaced apologetically at Anders and Varric. “Maybe we’ll find you at the bookshop later.” 

Anders shrugged. “I’ll likely be at The Bed and The Bucket by then. Winning the pot out from under Sera’s nose.”

Varric chuckled. “You, beat the expert archer at a darts competition? Those are some big dreams, Blondie.”

“Ouch,” Anders deadpanned. “That hurts my feelings. Sort of.”

Dorian sighed dramatically. “And the handsome Tevinter goes to the tailor on his own. I see how it is.” He began to saunter away. “If I don’t return to the Lady Luck, please tell our dear Captain that it’s because you all abandoned me.” 

“Will it make it better if I promise to compliment your ass in your new trousers?” Rynne called after him. 

“Not now that I know your compliments won’t be genuine,” Dorian yelled back. 

Rynne snickered, then smiled up at Fenris. “All right, let’s go see these sexy dancers.” 

“I never said they were sexy,” Fenris said calmly. “That was your assumption.”

“But you didn’t deny it,” she said slyly. 

Anders clicked his tongue. “Come on, Varric, let’s go,” he said. The two of them made their way along the dock toward the upper section of the town. 

Fenris gazed disdainfully at Anders’s departing back, then gestured toward the boardwalk that wound away toward the west. “The lower town square is this way.” 

She beamed at him. “Lead the way, O Handsome Escort.”

They walked along the boardwalk side-by-side, and Rynne shoved her hands into her pockets to stop herself from accidentally holding his hand like she wanted so badly to do. As was the case in Rialto, the boardwalk was busy with all sorts of people of every age and race: pirates from everywhere in Thedas trading news and insults, elven and dwarven artisans peddling their wares and unloading goods from their boats, barefoot elven children racing around everyone’s knees, and even a number of qunari. 

Rynne studied the tall horned people as subtly as she could without staring. “I’ve never seen so many qunari before,” she confided to Fenris. “Actually, Kaaras is the first qunari I ever met.”

“I assumed as much,” Fenris replied. “Although technically, Kaaras is not qunari. Most of the horned people you see here are not qunari.”

Rynne’s eyes widened. “Wha–? What do you mean, they’re not qunari?”

“‘Qunari’ is the word for people of any race who follow the Qun. Their religion, so to speak, or their rule of law,” Fenris explained. “Kaaras left the Qun, so he is what they would call ‘tal-vashoth’.”

Rynne frowned thoughtfully. “So if I converted to the Qun, I would be a qunari?”

“You would, yes,” Fenris said. Then he smirked. 

She tilted her head quizzically. “What’s funny?”

“The idea of you converting to the Qun,” he said. “It would be a poor fit.”

“Why?” she asked curiously.

He rubbed his mouth, then smirked at her again. “Because the qunari do as they are told.”

Rynne barked out a laugh. “Excuse me!” she exclaimed in mock offense. “I do what I’m told if it makes sense! I’m learning to fight quite well, aren’t I? Look, I even have my dagger on my thigh for easy access and my coin purse near the front.” She pointed at the embossed pouch that Carver had sent her, then tucked her thumbs confidently into her belt and raised her chin. “No one’s pickpocketing this girl.”

Fenris’s handsome smirk widened slightly. “True enough,” he conceded. “Still, you would make a poor qunari.”

Rynne elbowed him playfully. “Fenris, are you trying to compliment me in a very odd way?”

To her surprise, he didn’t make the expected witty brush-off. Instead, he slowly rubbed his chin.

“I… perhaps I am, yes,” he said.

Rynne stared at him, her humour swiftly fading as she studied the oddly serious look on his face. She genuinely hadn’t expected him to agree with her. 

Wait. What did it even mean that he wanted to compliment her?

Her mouth was dry. She swallowed hard and gazed at him, waiting and hoping and _wishing_ for him to say something more. But he wasn’t looking at her, and the tips of his ears were turning pink. 

For some reason, his unusual sign of nerves rendered _her_ nervous.

 _Quick, change the subject,_ she thought. “How do you know so much about qunari?” she asked brightly. 

His shoulders instantly loosened, and he finally looked at her again. “They have been in conflict with Tevinter for many years,” he said. He narrowed his eyes. “You don’t know of this?”

She pointed at herself and grimaced. “Naive noble girl, remember?”

He shot her a chiding glance before replying. “People often spoke of the conflict in the streets of Minrathous. I had little else to do but listen and fight when my master commanded.” He shrugged, but his expression was slowly becoming bitter. “Besides, to be a slave is to be invisible. You can learn a great deal from simply standing around while your master and his cronies loosen their lips in your presence.”

Rynne nodded sympathetically. “That reminds me of going to parties at my mother’s friends’ houses. Especially when I was small. Bethany and I were always told to sit up straight, smile and nod, but not to speak unless we were spoken to.” She adopted a mocking high-pitched voice. “‘Children should be seen and not heard’. Have you heard that before?”

He looked at her in surprise. “I… not in the common tongue, no.”

“Ah. Well.” She shot him a dark look. “It doesn’t make for a very fun childhood, I can tell you that. But you’re right: people do share some rather scandalous secrets around you when they think you’re just a mindless ornamental doll.” 

Fenris was silent. When Rynne looked at him quizzically, he was frowning. 

All of a sudden, she realized what she was accidentally implying. Horrified, she clapped her hands over her mouth. “Oh Maker,” she blurted. “That’s not to say I’m – I don’t mean I was anything like a slave, I don’t mean that, what you went through was far worse than– oh, fuck me sideways.” She buried her burning face in her hands. “I’m an idiot,” she lamented. “I’m so sorry, Fenris.”

“No,” he said quietly. “Don’t apologize. You present an interesting perspective. And a valuable one.”

She chanced a peek at him through her fingers, then slowly lowered her hands. He didn’t look angry; in fact, he was studying her with a soft and thoughtful little frown that made her treacherous heart thump.

“I believe I owe _you_ an apology, in fact,” he said.

“What?” she said dumbly. “What for?”

He ran a hand through his hair. “When we first met, I… I made assumptions about you based on your family’s wealth.”

She relaxed. “Oh. Well, that’s all right, most people–”

He held up a hand to stop her. “I thought you would be a burden on the ship,” he said bluntly. “That you would turn tail and run back to Kirkwall when the thrill of adventure was outweighed by the hardship of a sailor’s life.” He plucked idly at the red ribbon around his wrist. “You are not what I expected.”

“Oh,” she said stupidly. Then she swallowed hard. His gorgeous green eyes were steady on her face, and something about the intensity of his expression was making her feel extremely nervous. 

She dropped her gaze and awkwardly rubbed her nose. “Well, I, um… I rather like the idea of being underestimated.”

He drew back slightly in surprise. “Why?”

She shrugged and tucked her hands in her pockets. “If people expect nothing of you, then you can really surprise the shit out of them,” she said. “It makes their shock all the more enjoyable.” Then she remembered one of her favourite quotes from _Swords and Shields_ – one that was actually relevant to the situation. 

She straightened and smiled at Fenris. “‘No fire burns brighter than the one you never expected’,” she said proudly. “That’s something that Varric wrote, and he’s one of the smartest people I know.” 

Fenris stared at her incredulously for a moment. “That is… a very optimistic point of view,” he finally said.

Rynne let out a little self-deprecating laugh. “I know. I’m insufferable. You don’t have to say it.” She unconsciously lifted her left hand to tuck her hair behind her ear. 

Fenris grabbed her wrist before she could touch her scar.

Her eyes darted up to meet his. And suddenly she realized how close they were. There was a mere handspan of space between them, and his handsome face was just a few inches from hers.

A sudden, breathless rush of hope shoved her heart straight into her throat. As the milling people on the boardwalk moved blithely around them, Rynne stood frozen with her wayward eyes on Fenris’s lips and her breath stalled in her lungs and his warm strong fingers wrapped around her wrist. 

An hour later – or maybe it was just two seconds – he released her wrist and stepped away from her. He dropped his gaze and ran a hand through his hair. “We should, er. We should move on,” he said. “We will miss the dancers.”

Her heart dropped from her throat straight through her chest to settle heavily in her stomach. “Right, right,” she said quickly. “Um, let’s go.”

They made their way along the boardwalk in an increasingly uncomfortable silence, and Rynne tried hard to quell her disappointment. It was her own fault for assuming… something about how close they’d been standing and how complimentary Fenris was being. Besides, it wasn’t like friends couldn’t compliment each other. Rynne was constantly complimenting everyone on the Lady Luck, and it wasn’t like she was interested in any of them. 

_But friends don’t stare at each other’s mouths like that,_ a sneaky part of her mind whispered. 

She ignored the little voice. It was pointless. Fenris had said he wanted to be just friends, and that was the end of it.

A couple of minutes later, they were standing in the midst of a cheering and clapping crowd as they watched a troupe of six beautiful Rivaini women spinning and twirling to the driving rhythm of a drum and a stringed instrument Rynne had never seen before. The atmosphere was bright and cheerful, and Rynne gratefully allowed her mood to be buoyed up by the music and the wonderful dancers. 

She clapped along to the drumbeat and leaned toward Fenris, who was watching the performance with a small frown. “I think I should learn to dance like that,” she yelled over the noise. “It would come in handy for my combat training.”

He glanced at her. “How, pray tell?”

“The rolling,” she replied. “And the flexibility. I could bend over backwards to dodge a sword, then roll behind them and, er…” 

Fenris raised a skeptical eyebrow, and Rynne laughed. “All right, fine, you caught me. I just want to learn a sexy dance.”

“That strikes me as the last thing you should be learning,” he drawled.

She elbowed him playfully. “Says the man who choreographs dance routines while running from deck to deck on the Lady Luck.”

He shot her a chiding smirk. “You will never let that go, will you?”

“Never,” she said with relish. She jerked her head at the dancers. “You know, I could imagine _you_ learning these dances. The half-naked bodies and the fluttering scarves…” She grinned salaciously. 

He huffed and folded his arms. “And I could imagine Dorian exchanging his fine silk garments for a burlap bag. That doesn’t mean it will happen.”

She snorted with laughter at the absurd idea, then watched the dancers for a moment longer before glancing at Fenris again. Then she stopped clapping and stared at him in alarm. His expression was blank with shock. 

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

He didn’t reply. His shoulders were stiff and his fingers were clenched, and his gaze was fixed on someone on the other side of the dancing circle. 

Rynne tried to see who he was looking at, but there were so many people that there was no way to tell. She looked at Fenris once more with growing anxiety. “Fenris, what’s the–”

“ _Vishante kaffas,_ ” he hissed. He grabbed her hand and started pulling her along behind him. 

Her heart leapt into her throat again, but with panic this time. He was moving swiftly and confidently through the crowd without jostling anyone, clearly in an effort to not draw undue attention. When they reached the edge of the crowd, Fenris stopped short and released her hand. 

She opened her mouth to speak, but he held up a hand to silence her, and she dutifully closed her mouth and watched his eyes. He was glaring fiercely at someone across the square, and through the thinned crowd, Rynne thought she might now be able to tell who he was watching: a figure about her height wearing a nondescript brown hooded cloak and carrying an equally nondescript haversack. 

The hooded person disappeared through the door of an inn called The Gull and Lantern, and Fenris dragged a hand through his hair. “ _Venhedis. Fasta vass,”_ he cursed. 

Rynne watched with growing apprehension as he started to pace. “Fenris,” she said quietly, “who was that?”

He clenched his fingers in his hair for a moment, then glared at her. “That was my sister.”

Rynne froze for a second. A sister? A _sister?_ “You have a sister?” she demanded.

“Yes,” he bit off. “She… _kaffas_. I have not seen her in years. Not since she…” He trailed off and continued to pace. “What is she _doing_ here?” he muttered. 

Rynne took a step closer to him. “Slow down for me,” she pleaded. “You… she… you didn’t expect to see her here?” She knew her question was stupid and vague, but for Maker’s fucking sake, Fenris had a _sister_? How had he never mentioned this before?

“No,” he snapped. “The last time I saw her, she was leaving Minrathous with her blasted merchant lover. She should be in Qarinus with him. Why…” He trailed off and rubbed a hand through his hair again, and with a pang, Rynne realized that he was starting to look distinctly worried. 

She ran a soothing hand along his arm. “Fenris–”

He flinched away from her. Actually physically recoiled from her touch. 

A childish pang of hurt rose through her chest. She ruthlessly shoved it away and folded her hands behind her back. “Do you want to go in and talk to her?” she asked. 

“I… don’t know,” he said. “I didn’t… I never expected to see her again. Certainly not outside of Tevinter.” He rubbed his mouth, and with a heart-wrenching pang, Rynne realized his hand was shaking. 

She squared her shoulders. “All right. Let’s go talk to her,” she said confidently.

He looked sharply at her. “What?”

She met his eyes steadily. “We’re going into that inn to talk to her.” 

He swallowed hard, then dropped her gaze. “You don’t have to… I don’t need your help,” he muttered.

Rynne studied his tensely hunched shoulders. He looked so defensive and angry and… and _scared_. Fenris was the bravest man she’d ever met, and he was scared to confront his sister. 

She took a step closer to him. “You stood by me while I had that shitty conversation with Carver,” she said. “I’m coming with you to talk to your sister.” She smiled at him. “Hopefully it’ll go better than my talk with Carv, though. Who knows, maybe you’ll just end up having a nice chat over tea and cakes–”

“This is not a joke,” he hissed.

Rynne didn’t flinch. “I know that,” she said steadily. “That’s why I’m coming with you. You don’t need to do this alone, Fenris.”

He glared at her for a moment longer, then dropped his gaze once more and ran his hands through his hair. Finally he dropped his hands to his sides and exhaled sharply. “All right,” he said. “All right. I… let’s… we will speak to her.”

Rynne nodded and fell into step with him as he strode toward The Gull and Lantern. He pushed open the door to reveal a small but clean pub with simple wooden tables and benches and surprisingly ornate stained glass windows. 

Rynne stepped inside with Fenris and looked around. “Now where–”

“Leto?”

Fenris looked up, and Rynne followed his gaze. The brown-cloaked figure had thrown back her hood, revealing an elven woman around Rynne’s age with dark red hair and familiar green eyes.

“Varania?” Fenris croaked.

A smile burst across the woman’s face, and she ran toward Fenris and threw herself at him in a hug. Fenris stumbled back in shock but hugged her in return, and Rynne watched with a bittersweet ache as the siblings embraced. 

Varania pulled away and roughly wiped her eyes. “I can’t believe it’s you,” she said. “ _Venhedis,_ it’s been so many years. It’s good to see you.”

“What are you doing here?” he demanded. “I didn’t… why aren’t you in Qarinus with that – with Ahriman?” 

“He is here with me,” she said. “He’s in the upper part of the town on business, so we don’t have long.” She took Fenris’s arm and pulled him to a nearby table.

Rynne followed them in silence, and she couldn’t help but feel a bit relieved when Fenris gestured for her to sit on the bench before he took a seat himself. “Hawke, this is my sister Varania,” he said. 

Rynne smiled at Varania. “It’s lovely to meet you,” she said. 

Varania smiled and nodded to her, then turned back to Fenris and lowered her voice. “I was hoping to escape Ahriman while on this trip,” she told him. “I stole some of his fine jewelry and I tried to sell it in town, but the merchant would only give me a fraction of its value. It’s not enough for me to buy passage on a ship to Llomeryn.”

Fenris stared at her. “You… you want to escape? I thought you loved Ahriman.”

Varania’s face twisted. “Perhaps I did, once. But no more. He’s a cruel man, Leto.” 

_Leto?_ Rynne thought in confusion. Why was Varania calling Fenris by a different name? But it didn’t feel appropriate to ask, given the urgency of the situation.

Varania was still talking in a quiet, urgent tone. “I cannot stay with him any longer, but I haven’t the coin to escape him like I had planned. I don’t know what I am going to do.” A tear ran down her face, and she quickly wiped it away. 

“Take my coin,” Fenris said immediately. He reached for his coin pouch, then paused. “ _Kaffas,_ ” he muttered. He exhaled heavily and bowed his head. “I am almost out of coin. Still, you can have–”

“Take mine,” Rynne interrupted. She reached down to her belt and unstrapped the leather purse that Carver had given her. 

“Hawke, no,” Fenris said sharply. “We don’t need–”

“It’s not charity,” she said firmly. “It’s payback. Really, I should have given this to you as soon as I got it.” She gazed seriously into his eyes. “Besides, some things are more important than coin.” 

He hesitated and glanced at Varania’s desperate face, then exhaled and nodded. “Thank you,” he said softly. “I… thank you.” 

She shook her head dismissively. “No thanks needed. If Varania gets free from this merchant fellow, that’s more than worth everything in this pouch.” She shot Fenris an apologetic look. “Do you mind giving Varania your pouch, though? I’m rather attached to mine…”

“Ah. Of course,” Fenris said distractedly. He held out his pouch, and Rynne pretended not to notice how his hands were shaking as she transferred the coin from her pouch to his. 

He held out the pouch to Varania, and she swiftly pocketed it before clasping Fenris’s hand in hers. “Thank you, brother,” she said fervently. “But you should go before Ahriman returns. If he sees me speaking to another man, even my brother, I–”

“Wait,” Fenris interrupted. “You should join the Lady Luck.”

Varania’s eyes went wide. “The… what?”

Rynne perked up. “Ooh yes, that’s a wonderful idea,” she enthused. “That’s the escape right there! It’s perfect!”

Varania was looking distinctly worried now. “What is the Lady Luck?” she asked. 

“I belong to a pirate crew now,” Fenris told her. “The Lady Luck is the ship. The Captain is Dalish and very fair. If you join the crew, you will never have to worry about your safety again.” He leaned across the table. “I will keep you safe.” 

To Rynne’s surprise, Varania’s expression became slightly hard. “Leto…”

“I _will_ keep you safe,” he insisted. “As long as we remain together, I can keep you safe.”

Rynne shot him a sharp look. That attitude was familiar.

“Come with us now,” Fenris insisted. “We’ll go back to the ship without delay. Ahriman will never know we were here.”

Varania was starting to look scared. “I – but – he’ll return any minute,” she stammered. “What if he sees us as we’re leaving?” She clutched Fenris’s hand. “He scares me, Leto. If he catches me, he’ll kill me. He will kill you, too.”

“I should like to see him try,” Fenris snarled. “He may be a powerful merchant in Qarinus. But here, he is but a man who sweats like any other when death comes for him.”

Varania’s eyes darted from Fenris to the door and back. “I – let’s – let’s wait until he has come back and seen me here,” she suggested breathlessly. “He will go out on business again, and once he is gone, I will meet you.”

Fenris scowled. “I don’t like it,” he said. “He could harm you in the meantime.”

Varania’s expression grew even more desperate, and Rynne gently squeezed his arm. “Let’s try what Varania suggested,” she said. “If she thinks she’ll be all right for an hour or two, then we should trust her.”

Fenris’s scowl deepened. Then he sighed and leaned back. “All right. Meet us at the docks in two hours,” he said sternly to Varania. “If you are not there in two hours, I will return here for you.”

“All right. Two hours,” she said. She hurried around the table and hugged Fenris once more. “Now go, quickly. Before he sees you.” She nodded to Hawke, then turned and ran up the stairs to the upper level of the inn.

Rynne frowned slightly as she and Fenris rose from the table, but she held her tongue as they stepped back into the sunshine and noise of the lower town square. Fenris was silent as they picked their way through the crowded square and back to the boardwalk, and Rynne didn’t bother to ask where they were going. She knew Fenris was headed back to the docks, and that he would wait there for the full two hours until Varania appeared. 

_If_ she appeared. Which Rynne was starting to have some doubts about. But how was she supposed to say that to Fenris when he was so determined to protect his sister?

His handsome face was tight with worry and anger as they made their silent way toward the docks, and once again, Rynne was forced to keep her hands in her pockets to stop herself from taking his hand. Once they were at the boundary of the docks closest to the town square, Fenris led her over to a corner near some old barrels and ropes, then leaned against the brick wall of the adjacent building and folded his arms to wait. 

Rynne, meanwhile, seated herself on the barrel closest to him. She idly picked at her nails for a moment, then awkwardly tugged her ear. “So. Um… Afsaana seems, er, nice so far.” 

He didn’t reply or look at her. Rynne nervously nibbled the inside of her cheek as she tried to find something to say. Something other than _I think your sister is up to something_ , that was. 

Finally she shuffled off of the barrel. “Are you hungry? I’ll find us a–”

“Don’t leave,” he said. 

She looked at him, and a pang of tenderness squeezed her heart. Fenris was finally looking at her, and his expression was so vulnerable–

And in a blink of an eye, it was gone. He rubbed his mouth, and when he looked at her again, his usual frown was back in place. “Stay here,” he said sternly. “It is safer if we remain together.”

That’s what he had said to his sister. And with a sudden flash of realization, Rynne’s heart broke. 

_This_ was why Fenris didn’t want to be with her. He saw her as a sister. Maker’s balls, how fucking horrible was that?

She slowly seated herself on the barrel again, then looked away from him and pretended to be watching some seagulls while she blinked back her tears. Once the ache in her throat had abated and she was reasonably certain she wouldn’t start crying on him for no apparent reason, she turned to face him. 

“Tell me about Varania,” she said bluntly. 

Fenris shot her a look of surprise, and she shrugged. “Come on, we have two hours to kill. So tell me about her.”

He eyed her for a moment longer, then shifted his weight slightly and looked out at the bay. “She is three years younger than me. Almost your age,” he said to Rynne. “When Danarius took us from our mother, she was killed in the commotion.”

“Danarius is… was your former master’s name?” she said softly. 

He nodded. “From the day we were taken, we made a pact to never be separated. I swore to her that I would protect her at all cost. And I did, for years. I…” He took a deep breath. “Danarius threatened her regularly. He said he would harm her if I didn’t do as I was told. So I did what he told me.” He folded his arms more tightly. “I mastered every weapon he handed me, and I kneeled at his feet and served his wine during his cursed parties. As I got older and stronger, he…” He took a deep breath, then closed his eyes and leaned back against the wall. “He took me to his lyrium mines and forced me to police the other slaves who worked there.”

“What do you mean?” Rynne whispered. 

He swallowed hard and didn’t open his eyes. “If the other slaves weren’t working hard enough for his liking, he forced me to beat them. To push them harder. Some of them died because of my actions. He told me to hurt them, so I did.” He exhaled heavily. “ _Proditor,_ they called me. It means ‘traitor’,” he said quietly. “And they were right. But I… I had no choice. Or… I thought I didn’t.” 

Rynne exhaled. It felt as though someone had punched her in the stomach. If she felt this terrible hearing his story, how must he be feeling?

He looked so sad and exhausted. Rynne nibbled her lip for a moment.

 _Fuck it,_ she thought. Then she reached out and took his hand. 

He opened his eyes and looked at her, but he didn’t pull away. So Rynne placed his hand in her lap and squeezed it with both of hers. 

He swallowed again and looked away from her, and for a moment they were silent as Rynne simply held his hand. 

Eventually she broke the silence. “You said Varania ran away with that merchant. This Ahriman fellow. What… what happened?” 

He blew out a breath. “Ahriman was in business with Danarius. He purchases lyrium and sells it in the cities. I can’t say I know exactly how it happened or when, but Varania fell in love with Ahriman and convinced him to buy her from Danarius.” He scrubbed a hand through his hair. “This was three years ago. She barely took the time to say goodbye. In the space of a single day, she was gone, and I was…” He trailed off.

 _You were alone,_ Rynne thought. She firmly squeezed his hand.

He rubbed his face. “I don’t understand it,” he muttered. “To this day, I don’t understand why she left.” He pulled his hand from Rynne’s and started to pace. “I kept her safe. She was safe with me. We were – she was all I had. I thought…” He trailed off and shook his head. “Clearly I was wrong.”

Rynne watched his pacing with an aching heart. This whole situation – the sister leaving on an apparent whim, and the brother being angry at her departure… it was all starting to feel too familiar. 

She licked her lips nervously before speaking. “Maybe there was something else going on that you didn’t know about,” she said.

He shot her a sharp look and continued to pace. “What are you talking about?”

“I mean…” She took a deep, bracing breath. “Me and Carver. He had no idea what my mother did to me. He still doesn’t.”

Fenris spun on her. “I am not your brother,” he snapped. “I paid attention. I kept her safe!”

Rynne studied his angry face with an aching heart. “You can’t protect someone from everything, Fenris,” she said softly. “I… it’s just not possible. And that’s not your fault.”

He ran both his hands through his hair. “I tried. I…”

“I know you did,” she said. She reached out and took his hand once more. “And it’s not your fault if it didn’t work.”

“She _left_ ,” he yelled suddenly. “She…” Then he broke off and met her eye, and some of the rage in his face started to melt. 

_So did I,_ Rynne thought with a wrench of guilt. She swallowed hard, then looked down at their hands. 

His skin was darker than hers, but the tattoos were so much paler. Rynne carefully twined her fingers with his, and he allowed it. 

They fell silent for some time. Rynne didn’t look at Fenris, and he didn’t look at her, but their clasped hands remained resting peacefully on her lap. 

Once again, it was Rynne who broke the silence. “Fenris,” she said quietly. “I’m… a little worried about this plan.”

He frowned at her. “What do you mean?”

She winced. “I don’t think… I’m not sure Varania is coming.”

He drew away slightly. “Why would you say that?”

“I just…” She shrugged apologetically. “Well, I noticed that she didn’t ask how you escaped from Tevinter.”

To her great regret, he pulled his hand out of hers. “And?” he said sharply.

“That’s the first thing you asked her,” Rynne pointed out gently. “You wanted to know how she got here and if she was safe. But the first thing she said to you was that she needed money.” She shrugged. “If I ran into Carver for the first time in years out of the blue, I’d want to know everything about what he’d been up to. I wouldn’t tell him I needed money. That would be the last thing on my mind.”

Fenris glared at her, then shook his head and started pacing again, and Rynne wilted. She shouldn’t have said anything. 

She tried to reach for him again. “Fenris, look. Let’s just–”

He roughly shrugged her off. “Why are you here, then?” he snarled. “If you think she is not coming, what are you doing here?” He waved angrily at her. “Why are you… why–”

“You mean aside from the fact that you told me to stay?” she said archly. “You really think I’d fucking leave you here by yourself?”

He closed his mouth and stared at her, and she shot him an exasperated look. “Fenris, please. You can’t really think I’d walk away and leave you to wait all alone.” She folded her legs up on the barrel. “Do you know how long we’ve been waiting already, though? I honestly might get hungry before she shows up.”

He continued to stare at her for another moment, and Rynne watched painfully as his expression shifted from anger to a heartbreaking sort of bewilderment before he turned away from her. 

She took a few deep breaths to control her own emotions. Eventually Fenris came to lean against the wall beside her again, and when Rynne looked at him, he actually appeared quite calm. 

He glanced at her. “I would like to wait for her,” he said quietly. 

“Of course,” Rynne said immediately. She unfolded her legs and swung them idly for a moment, then looked at Fenris again. “Seriously though. I don’t suppose you’re carrying any snacks?”

He huffed and folded his arms. “Shut up, Hawke.”

Rynne glanced cautiously at him, then smiled in relief. He was smirking at her, and she was more than pleased to see his sense of humour reappearing, despite the tense situation. 

But his smirk was short-lived. It slowly faded away until Fenris was no longer smiling, but just gazing at her. Just… just studying her, staring into her eyes with those piercing and beautiful emerald eyes of his–

“There she is. The wench with the coin to spare.”

Rynne and Fenris looked up. Two large human men and a qunari – no, a tal-vashoth – were approaching them with a distinctly hostile air. 

Fenris stepped away from the wall, and the dark-haired man sneered at him. “Stay out of it, knife-ear. No one needs to get hurt. Not unless they ask for it.” 

Fenris narrowed his eyes, and Rynne swallowed hard as her heart started to race. She crossed her legs demurely and gave the men a winning smile. “Gentlemen, please, there’s no need for threats. What can we do for you today?”

The dark-haired man and the tal-vashoth raised their eyebrows at her manners. The second man frowned and took an aggressive step toward her. “We saw you at The Gull,” he said in an Orlesian accent. “You gave that rabbit a pouch of coin.”

Fenris froze at the mention of Varania. The Orlesian man kept talking to Rynne. “If you have that much silver to spare for a rabbit, then you must have more.”

Rynne widened her eyes dramatically and pressed her hand to her chest. “You didn’t harm our friend at the inn, did you?” she said plaintively. 

The Orlesian man lifted his chin belligerently and didn’t reply, but his dark-haired friend did. “The bitch was gone when we went to grab ‘er.” 

The Orlesian man glared at the dark-haired one. “Shut up, Julian,” he snarled. “Don’t just tell them what they want to know.”

Fenris shifted very slightly, and Rynne sighed in relief – loudly, to call the thugs’ attention to herself and away from Fenris. “Well, I’m so glad that our friend is all right,” she simpered. “Please, we don’t want any trouble. I do happen to have an emergency stock of coin, but… oh, I’m so terribly embarrassed. It’s in my bust.” 

All three of the men snapped to attention. “What?” the tal-vashoth said flatly. 

She blinked innocently at them. “It’s in my bust,” she repeated more loudly. She slid off of the barrel and took a casual step closer to the big Orlesian man. “If you don’t mind, I just need to…” She reached for the neckline of her shirt and started slowly undoing the laces. 

The Orlesian man took a small step closer to her. Then Fenris stabbed the dark-haired man in the neck. 

The dark-haired man let out a strangled cry. Fenris stabbed him twice more, and the man stumbled to his knees. 

The Orlesian whipped around to look, and Rynne kicked him hard in the balls. 

He doubled over with a groan, and the tal-vashoth recoiled in surprise. “ _Vashedan_ ,” he snarled, and he pulled a sword from his belt. 

Rynne whipped her dagger from its sheath and skipped out of their reach. A split second later, Fenris was standing in front of her with his own dagger drawn. 

“Did I do the right thing?” she asked him breathlessly. “I can’t decide–”

“You did fine,” he growled. “Stay back. I will handle them.” He lunged at the tal-vashoth, and soon their blades were slamming together with the ear-splitting screech of metal on metal as Fenris parried the tal-vashoth’s blows with his dagger. 

“ _Salope,_ ” the Orlesian man spat. 

Rynne whipped around to face him. He was still hunched over a bit, but his face was red and ugly with anger. 

Before Rynne could speak or move, Fenris darted at the Orlesian and slashed him across the wrist. 

The man hissed in pain and grabbed for Fenris, but Fenris was already out of reach and engaging the tal-vashoth once more. The Orlesian clutched his bloodied wrist, then pulled a scimitar from his sash with his wounded hand and advanced on Rynne. 

“Eager little whore,” he snarled. “You can untie those laces for me when I pin you down with this sword.”

A ripple of disgust and fear ran down her spine. She forced herself to smile as she subtly adjusted her grip on her dagger. “Wrong,” she said. She jerked her chin at his weapon. “That’s a scimitar, not a sword. I know these things now.”

The Orlesian paused in confusion. Then he hastily raised his scimitar in defense as Fenris lashed at him once more. “Fucking knife-ear,” he snarled at Fenris. Then, to Rynne’s horror, Fenris was actively fighting both men at once with nothing but his dagger.

“Fuck this,” she muttered. No way was she going to stand here idly. She ran over to the dead dark-haired man and fumbled at his belt, then pulled off his sword with shaking fingers. 

She darted around to Fenris’s field of view and waited tensely until he caught her eye. The minute he looked at her, she tossed the sword to him.

He caught the sword, booted the Orlesian in the stomach, then skipped back two steps to adjust his grip on his weapons before engaging the two men once more, and Rynne exhaled in relief. Fenris wielding two weapons was the equivalent of two warriors fighting, and already the fight was more balanced–

“Julian!” an angry voice said from behind her. “The fuck is this? Did you kill ‘im?” 

A hand roughly grabbed Rynne’s arm, and her anxiety surged. Without stopping to think, she flung her head backwards.

 _Thunk._ A dull throb of pain reverberated across her skull, and her assailant yelped in pain and released her arm. She whipped around and quickly assessed her new opponent – _human, blond, armed with a dagger, bleeding from the nose_ – then lunged at him and slashed madly at his arms with her blade. 

“Fuck!” he yelled. He tried to back away from her, but she advanced on him ruthlessly despite her rising panic and slashed at his belly. 

The fabric of his shirt parted beneath her dagger, and a bloom of red appeared across the fabric. A roil of nausea joined the panic in her belly, but she ignored it and slashed at her assailant again. 

He grabbed her wrist and twisted, sending a jolt of pain up her forearm, then slapped her hard across the face. 

A fiery blaze of agony lit her right cheek. The blond man’s fingers were painfully tight on her wrist and dragging her toward him, and as she struggled to gather her wits, she realized something awful.

She’d dropped her dagger. She was unarmed. Fuck, she was unarmed, and the blond man was forcing her back against the wall and – _ow, fuck,_ that was her head hitting the wall with too much force to be comfortable. And now his other hand was scrabbling at the waistband of her trousers–

She flinched in horror. _Stop. Stop it,_ she thought in panic. Then she lunged toward him and bit his nose _hard_.

He howled in pain and stumbled away from her, and Rynne gasped for breath and dropped to a crouch by the wall. Her fingers scrabbled through the debris on the ground until she found a brick to strike him with, but by the time she pushed herself to her feet, the blond man was on his knees with blood dribbling from his mouth and Fenris’s sword shoved clean through his belly from behind. 

She looked up. Fenris was standing over the blond man with the most furious snarl she’d ever seen on his face. The Orlesian man was facedown in a puddle of blood, but the tal-vashoth– 

“Look out!” Rynne squealed. 

Fenris whipped around, then hastily dodged back as the tal-vashoth swiped at him with his sword, and then they were fighting again but Fenris didn’t have his sword anymore... 

Rynne bolted at the tal-vashoth and plowed into his side. He was huge and a full two feet taller than her, so her attempted body slam made no impact. 

But the brick she bashed into his jaw certainly did. 

He roared in pain, then broke off with a choking gasp as Fenris’s dagger sank into his chest. Fenris stabbed him three more times in the chest, and when the tal-vashoth dropped limply to the ground, Fenris spun toward Rynne and grasped her arm. 

“Are you hurt?” he snapped. He cupped her cheek in one hand. “Your face… he struck you?” 

“Y-yes,” she said. Why were her teeth chattering? She wasn’t even cold. “But it’s fine. I’m fine. No blood, no bruises. I–” She broke off abruptly. 

Fenris was bleeding. His shirt was cut below the left ribs, and his side was painted with blood. 

Panic filled her throat and she reached for his side, but he blocked her hands before she could touch him. “It is superficial,” he grunted. “A wound to the ribs, nothing more. Come. We need to move.” He took her hand and pulled her through the growing crowd and back in the direction of the town square. 

Rynne tried to breathe normally as she jogged alongside him. Her right cheek felt like she had a bad sunburn and the back of her head was throbbing, but that hardly mattered; she wasn’t the one who was bleeding.

She gazed pleadingly at Fenris’s angry profile. “Fenris, let me look at that wound–” 

“Not now,” he snapped. “We have to find Varania.”

Rynne pressed her lips together and didn’t reply. If those thugs hadn’t been lying, and Varania was gone… 

Fenris’s grip on her hand was almost painfully tight, but Rynne didn’t try to pull away. He shoved the door of the inn open, ignoring the alarmed cries of the patrons in the bar, then pulled Rynne up the stairs. At the top of the stairs, he finally released her hand, then whipped his dagger from its sheath and burst into the first room on the left. 

Rynne flinched as the door banged against the wall. A moment later, Fenris backed out. “Empty,” he snarled. He strode down the hall and shoved open the next door with a _bang_ , and Rynne helplessly trailed behind him.

Two doors later, he froze, then strode into the room. “Varania,” he barked. 

Rynne darted into the room behind him, then stopped short in shock. 

Varania was the midst of climbing out of the window. When she caught sight of Fenris, her big green eyes grew even wider, and she ducked her head through the window as though to escape. 

But she couldn’t leave. The strap of her haversack was caught on the window ledge. “ _Venhedis,_ ” she hissed. She pulled fruitlessly on the haversack, but Fenris grabbed it and dragged it off of her shoulder. 

“Give that back!” she yelled. 

“Why are you trying to escape?” he demanded. “Did Ahriman threaten you?”

“He’s not– no,” Varania said defensively. “I just… I want to go to Llomeryn.”

Rynne narrowed her eyes at Varania’s near-slip, but Fenris took a step toward her. “We can take you to Llomeryn if that is what you really want,” he said. “I will keep you safe until–” 

“You can’t protect me,” Varania shouted suddenly. “I don’t need your help.”

Fenris recoiled, then tried again. “I can. I… it is not like before, Varania. On the Lady Luck–”

“Oh, stop,” she said scathingly. “You couldn’t protect me before, and you can’t protect me now. I can look after myself without your help. Now give me that bag.” She held her hand out imperiously. 

Fenris stared at her in silence, but Rynne took a small step toward her. “If you don’t need Fenris’s help, then I suppose you don’t need the money, either.” She reached for the haversack in Fenris’s hand. 

“No!” Varania blurted. Then she pressed her lips together. 

Rynne paused and looked at her. “So you need coin, but you don’t want a quick getaway.” She tilted her head. “Is Ahriman even here?”

Varania glared viciously at her. Then Fenris spoke in a strained voice. “Varania, is he here?”

“No, he’s not,” she snarled. She swung her leg back through the window and stepped back into the room. “He’s not here. He cast me aside, all right? He threw me out. Is that what you want to hear?”

Fenris recoiled. “No, of course not,” he said. “Why–”

“You never wanted me to escape,” she yelled at Fenris. She looked completely enraged now. “You wanted me to stay locked up in Danarius’s mansion with Hadriana and all those other women.”

Fenris gaped at her. “I didn’t want you locked up,” he said incredulously. “I wanted you _safe_. All I ever… everything I ever did, I was trying to stop Danarius from harming you!”

“ _Him?_ ” Varania sneered. She let out an ugly laugh. “Danarius was nothing. He barely knew I existed. Hadriana, though… she and her handmaidens tormented me. They hounded my sleep, denied my meals, pulled my ears, took my clothes and made me clean the floors naked like a common beast.” She angrily wiped her eyes on her wrist, and Rynne forced herself to breathe through the ache of sympathy in her chest. 

Fenris took a step toward his sister. “I didn’t… you never told me that,” he said quietly. “Why didn’t you–”

“You were miserable enough already,” she said. “Doing whatever Danarius wanted just to keep me _safe._ ” She snarled the word ‘safe’, and even Rynne flinched slightly from the anger in her tone. 

“And so you left,” Fenris said. His tone was a heart-wrenching mix of sarcasm and rage. “You seduced that merchant, and you left.”

“I had to,” Varania snapped. “I couldn’t stand it any longer!”

“We made a pact!” Fenris shouted. “We were supposed to stay together after Mother died. I told you I’d protect–” 

“You failed!” Varania yelled. “You didn’t protect me. My life was terrible!”

“So was mine,” Fenris yelled back. “But we were in it together! Or that is what I thought.”

“Being together wasn’t enough,” Varania retorted. 

Fenris took an involuntary step back, and Rynne bit the inside of her cheek. She truly understood Varania’s arguments – Maker only knew she understood. But the undisguised hurt in Fenris’s face made her want to pull Varania’s hair out. 

Varania walked over to Fenris and snatched the haversack from his hand. She returned to the window and swung one leg through, then turned back to look at Fenris once more. “You should thank me for leaving,” she said acidly. “If I hadn’t left, we would both still be rotting in Danarius’s mansion.” 

He stared at Varania without speaking, and her angry expression softened slightly. “Goodbye, Leto,” she said quietly. A moment later, she slipped through the window and disappeared.

The ensuing silence was stifling. Rynne exhaled slowly and looked at Fenris. His face was turned away from her, and he was utterly still. 

She took a tentative step toward him. “So, um… no tea and cakes, then,” she said softly. 

Fenris glared at her. But before he could start yelling, she reached up and gently wiped the tears from his cheek. 

He ducked his head and roughly wiped his other eye. “Let’s go,” he said brusquely. “There is nothing here for me to reclaim.” He turned away and walked toward the door. 

Rynne silently followed him down the stairs. She grimaced apologetically at the affronted-looking innkeeper as they left, and then they were making their way through the town square once more. 

She looked up at him. His face was shuttered and angry, and she braced herself for his rage before speaking. “Now can I look at that wound–”

“No,” he said. 

She pressed her lips together, then tried again. “Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m still hungry. So we should probably go find a snack before I lose my temper and start trying to eat you instead.” She tried for a cheeky smile.

He sighed loudly and dragged a hand through his hair. “Hawke…” 

She relented. “All right, I’ll give you a break from my constant charm,” she said gently. “What do you want to do now?”

He rubbed his mouth for a moment. “I… I want to go back to the ship,” he admitted. “But I will take you to meet the others–”

“All right,” she interrupted. “Back to the Lady Luck we go.”

He frowned. “You don’t have to–”

“I want to,” she said firmly. “You don’t need to be alone.” She shrugged. “I wouldn’t want to be alone if I was in your place. I mean, I _wasn’t_ alone. When I argued with Carver, I mean.” She looked up at him. “You were with me the whole time.”

He pursed his lips. “I don’t want your pity.”

She wilted in exasperation. “I don’t _pity_ you, you handsome fool. I…” 

_I love you,_ she thought, but she snapped her mouth shut before the words could leave her tongue.

She tried again. “I care about you,” she said carefully. “You’re my friend. So stop trying to pawn me off, and let’s go back to the Lady Luck together.”

The muscles in his jaw tensed for a moment. Then, finally, he nodded. 

They made their way along the boardwalk back to the docks as unobtrusively as possible. Fenris pressed his left arm against his wounded ribs to hide the bloody tear in his shirt, and Rynne held herself in a meek manner and kept her eyes low to deflect attention. When they got back to the docks, she grimaced at the Lady Luck’s twenty-person rowboats. “If it’s just the two of us, how will we…” 

She trailed off. Fenris was holding a single silver. “From Dorian,” he said. “I kept it in my pocket. We can pay someone to row us back.”

Rynne smiled and took the coin from his palm. “Don’t tell Dorian about this. If he knew we spent his coin on something so practical, he would shit his fancy silk pants.”

Fenris offered her a feeble half-smile, and Rynne smiled back at him. By the time they’d found an available boatman to row them back to the Lady Luck, however, Fenris’s face was creased in a brooding frown once more. 

The dwarven boatman was chatty, and Rynne easily returned his banter as the dinghy glided through the bay back toward the Lady Luck. But she couldn’t stop herself from worrying about Fenris’s moody silence. 

He was silent until they returned to the ship, and Rynne watched worriedly as he guarded his wounded left side while climbing the rope ladder up to the deck. Once they had set foot on the ship once more, she planted her fists on her hips. “I need to look at that wound now, all right?” she said. “I don’t want it to get infected.” 

“I said no,” he said sharply. 

She recoiled slightly. He was scowling at her. “What’s the matter?” she asked. “Did I do something wrong?”

“It’s not you,” he snapped. “It’s… I am…” He rubbed his hair roughly, then dropped his hand to his side. “I need… some time,” he said slowly. “I need to be alone.”

A now-familiar pang of rejection twisted in her gut. _Why?_ she thought. Why did he always need to be alone? Why wouldn’t he just let her… 

She mentally cut herself off. She knew why he didn’t want her around. He didn’t want to be with her. He probably felt like she was smothering him. But she really did need to treat his wound. 

She pushed her hurt aside and lifted her chin. “You can have thirty minutes,” she said. “Then I’m coming to treat that wound.”

He glared at her again. “Why are you being so obstinate?”

 _Why are you?_ she thought mulishly. She raised her eyebrows. “Well, excuse me for caring about that gorgeous manly body of yours.”

He rubbed his forehead. “ _Festis bei umo canavarum._ Fine,” he groused. “Thirty minutes.” He turned on his heel and stormed away to the officer’s quarters. 

With a painfully heavy heart, Rynne watched him walk away. When the door to the officer’s quarters swung shut behind him, she sat down on the nearest bench and sighed. 

Well, Afsaana had been an adventure, all right.

Too bad it hadn’t been a good one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I FIX, I PROMISE. NEXT WEEK. PLEASE BE PATIENT WITH ME. 
> 
> Also, a little housekeeping note: our beloved artiste Schoute will be quite busy with Real Life™ things for the next while, so the chapter art will be more sporadic than before! YOU’RE STUCK WITH JUST MY WORDS, I’M AFRAID. 
> 
> Feel free to reach out to us on Tumbles! I am [here,](https://pikapeppa.tumblr.com/) and Schoute is [here!](https://schoute.tumblr.com/)


	22. Soiled Water

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [whispers] Are you guys mad at me about the angst last week
> 
> I PROMISED I'D FIX. Early update since I'm going away this weekend. Another to follow tomorrow. Forgive me. ;)

###  FENRIS 

Fenris stepped into his cabin and closed the door, then sank down on his bed and buried his head in his hands.

He’d failed. The entire time he and Varania were trapped in Danarius’s household, he’d failed at keeping her safe from harm. 

Protecting her was the one thing he’d held onto for all those years. During the gruelling weapons training and the beatings, the verbal abuse and neglect, the burning agony of the fresh tattoos and the hostile stares of the other slaves, Fenris had held onto one thought: at least he was protecting Varania.

But in the end, he hadn’t. He’d failed to do the one thing he’d meant to do. So of course Varania had left. Of course she’d found someone else to protect her and take her away. Why should she stay in Minrathous if Fenris couldn’t provide her with the safety she deserved? 

He sat in the semi-darkness of his cabin for some time just stewing in his agonized thoughts. He hadn’t protected Varania like he'd thought. He hadn’t protected Hawke the way he’d meant to. His sister was abused by Hadriana and her minions, and Hawke’s head got sliced open when his back was turned. If he wasn’t able to use his misbegotten combat skills to protect the people who mattered the most, then what was the point? 

_Being together wasn’t enough._ Varania’s cruel words surfaced in his mind once more, and he breathed carefully through the pain they raised in his chest. But perhaps she was right. It wasn’t enough that he cared about his sister. If he had nothing to offer her, no protection or security or safety, then what reason would she have to remain by his side?

He had nothing to offer. He was a former slave with nothing to claim but a vocabulary of violence and the scars on his skin. 

And to think he’d been planning to follow Piper’s advice and tell Hawke how he felt when they were in Afsaana. 

He rubbed his face in exhaustion, then lowered his hands and stared at his filthy palms. His suntanned skin was marked with the residue of the scrap this afternoon: dirt under his fingernails and dried blood in the creases of his palms, the usual fare after an unfortunate encounter in a primarily pirate-occupied town. But beneath the dirt and the blood were the livid white lines on his skin, and those marks – those cursed tattoos that had been forced on him against his will – those would never wash away. 

Eventually he rose to his feet, then exited the officer’s quarters and fetched a bucket of seawater to wash himself. He returned to his cabin and sat on his plain wooden stool, and with his right arm, he pulled his torn and filthy tunic over his head. 

The fabric was stuck to the dried blood of the wound along the lower margin of his ribs, and pulling it off sent a fresh ripple of pain across his sliced skin. He tossed the ruined tunic in the corner and peered at his side, only to find the long but shallow gash still bleeding sluggishly.

He sighed, then used his right hand as best as he could to splash his face and neck. He picked up a clean rag and started to wash his left shoulder and arm.

There was a knock on the door. “Fenris?” 

It was Hawke. Fenris clenched his jaw. He didn’t want to see her. She was going to look at him with that soft and sympathetic face, and he didn’t want her sympathy. If he was perfectly honest, there were many things he wanted from Hawke: her laughter and her incomprehensible sunny attitude and her hands on his blasted spoiled skin. But her pity was not one of them. 

She knocked again. Without thinking, he dragged his left hand through his hair, and a hot ripple of pain ran across his left side.

“ _Venhedis,_ ” he hissed. Then he raised his voice. “Come in.”

The door inched open, and Hawke slipped into his room with a nervous smile. She was carrying a basin of water and a doctor’s kit in her hands. 

Her eyes skimmed over Fenris’s bucket and rag, and her smile widened. “Washing up, are you? At least I didn’t take you by surprise this time.”

He grunted and dropped his gaze to the rag in his hand. He dipped it into the bucket of water, then hesitated. With a growing sense of awkwardness, he realized that he couldn’t wash the right side of his body without making his wound bleed even more.

Hawke placed the basin of water on the floor next to his bucket, then kneeled on the floor beside his stool. “Let me have a peek at that wound,” she said.

He shot her a brief sideways glance. Her expression was warm and neutral, but there was no pity there. 

He relaxed slightly, then raised his left arm halfway so Hawke could see the wound. A moment later, her cool and gentle fingers were touching his ribs. 

He held his breath and stared vacantly across the room as her fingers carefully prodded his inflamed skin. “Mm,” she murmured. “Thank fuck it’s shallow. I was worried he’d cut you to the bone.” 

“I knew it was shallow,” Fenris muttered.

She shot him a chiding glance. “Well, I would have known too if you let me look at it before.”

He scowled and didn’t reply. Her gentle fingers continued their exploration for a moment more. Finally she let out a soft sigh. “I don’t think I’ll stitch it. Your torso moves too much. The stitches will just tear, and that’ll make it even worse.”

Fenris nodded silently. Hawke reached into her basin of clean water and picked up a cloth, then hesitated. “Actually, it would be better to wash away most of the, er, grime before I dress the wound.” 

Fenris clenched his jaw. “I can’t wash myself,” he admitted with difficulty. “The wound–”

“I know,” she interrupted gently. “Can I help you?”

He shot her another brief glance. Her eyebrows were raised expectantly, and there was still no pity in her expression.

Suddenly she grinned. “All right, fine, I know what you’re thinking, and you’re right. I’m pretending to be all doctor-like so I can get my hands on that fine body of yours. Can I help you anyway?”

His shoulders loosened. Somehow her lewd humour made him feel more at ease than her doctorly manner. 

He nodded again and handed her the rag, and she rose to her feet and took the rag and bucket of water to stand behind him. A moment later, she started washing his shoulders with the damp cloth. She wiped his right shoulder and bicep, then dipped and wrung the cloth with a quiet splash.

Then her left hand was resting on his shoulder blade. 

He held his breath. Hawke’s other hand was still wiping his arm, but all of his attention was on her warm palm on his back. 

She dipped the cloth once more, then gently ran the cloth over his right shoulder blade. “You were whipped,” she said softly. 

He licked his dry lips. “Yes,” he said.

The cloth moved down his shoulder blade, followed by her gentle fingertips. “When?” she asked.

He took a deep breath and kept his eyes on the far wall. “On the slaver ship. After I escaped Minrathous.” 

Her hands went still for a brief moment, and his throat swelled uncomfortably, but she said nothing more. There was another soft splash, and then her hands and the cloth were moving in tandem again. Hawke carefully cleaned his tattooed skin, and her fingers traced carefully along the ugly raised scars that criss-crossed his back. 

She dampened the cloth again and mopped the center of his back. Then she gently stroked the back of his neck.

Fenris closed his eyes. Her fingers smoothed through the hair at the back of his neck, and he tried to quell the burning feeling that was swelling in his throat. 

A few minutes later, she lifted the damp cloth and her fingers from his back. “Can you stand up?” she said softly. “It’ll be easier for me to clean your left side.”

Without looking at her, he rose to his feet and stepped away from the stool. Then Hawke was standing in front of him. 

Her eyes were red-rimmed as though she’d been crying, and his belly jolted with discomfort. She cleared her throat. “Lift your, um, left arm and just… rest your hand on your other shoulder so I can get at the side.”

He did as she asked, and she began carefully wiping the worst of the dried blood away from his side. 

“I’m sorry, Fenris,” she said suddenly. 

His stomach dropped. This was what he’d been dreading: her unwarranted and undeserved sympathy.

He looked away from her. “You are not responsible for my misery.”

“I know,” she said. She rinsed and squeezed out the cloth once more. “I just mean… I’m sorry for you and Varania. That things… ended poorly like that.” She let out a weak little laugh. “Neither of us is very lucky in the sibling department, are we?”

He didn’t reply. She wasn’t wrong. In fact, she was extremely correct. And she was the one who’d suspected that something was off when they were in Afsaana. She’d suspected that Varania’s departure from Minrathous was more complex than Fenris knew, and she was right. 

But Hawke was also wrong about something. She thought she was like Varania, but the similarity was superficial. Varania was angry at Fenris for a good reason, whereas Carver had no right to be angry at Hawke.

“Our situations are not the same,” he told her. “You did nothing wrong.” 

She looked at him in surprise, so he elaborated. “Carver did not care for you enough. He should have taken care of you.”

Her eyes widened even further. “Wha–? No! No. I… it wasn’t his responsibility to know what was happening. Especially since I never told him what was going on. I…” She trailed off and sighed, then gave Fenris a resigned look. “Honestly, Fenris, I don’t blame you for seeing me and Varania the same way.”

He frowned suddenly. What did she mean by that? “I don’t–”

She pushed on regardless. “I mean, she’s a lot more pissy than me – not that she doesn’t have a good reason to be – but I do think she was trying to shield you from how shitty things were for her, in her own resentful way.” Then she frowned as she continued to clean his ribs. “But she shouldn’t have expected you to protect her from everything. That was unfair.”

He recoiled slightly. “Yes, she should. I swore that I would protect her.”

“You were twelve when you made that promise,” Hawke said archly. “You were a child. You had no idea what you were in for.”

He scowled at her. “What are you saying? That I shouldn’t have cared what became of my sister?”

She gave him an exasperated look. “That’s obviously not what I’m saying. But it’s not fair that she’s so angry at you for everything that happened to both of you. To _both_ of you,” she repeated emphatically when he glared at her. “Varania’s not the only one who had a shitty life. You had a shitty life too, and from the sounds of things, you spent the entire time trying to make hers better.”

He shook his head and tried to turn away, but she grabbed his arm. “Stay still,” she scolded. Then she started to wash his chest. 

The silence grew tense as she cleaned the left side of his chest. Water from the cloth dripped down toward his abs, and Hawke used the fingers of her free hand to sluice the water away from his waistband, and despite his agitation, a perverse part of his mind couldn’t help but thrill at the feel of her fingers so close to the edge of his breeches. 

She bent over and dipped the cloth again, then squeezed it out and began to wash the right side of his chest. “I don’t blame Carver,” she said quietly. “It wasn’t his responsibility.” She looked up and met Fenris’s eye. “And it’s not your fault that Varania–”

“It is my fault,” he snapped. He pulled her damned slender fingers away from his chest. “It was my only responsibility. That was all I had to offer her. If I couldn’t protect her, if I couldn’t do that one simple thing, then… then what–”

Hawke stepped closer to him, and he broke off in surprise. Then her warm soft hands were cradling his face.

He stared at her dumbly. Her beautiful amber eyes were fierce and hard. “You are not a fucking bodyguard,” she said.

He dragged in a breath. “I know that,” he said faintly.

“No, you don’t,” she said forcefully. “You’re still acting like that’s all you’re good for. They forced you to think that, but it’s nugshit. It’s not who you are. You’re…” She paused and exhaled slowly. “You’re a ridiculously intelligent and ridiculously handsome elf who is selfless and overprotective, and who deserves to be happy sometimes instead of… of sitting here alone in your quarters half the time.”

Fenris swallowed hard. Her praise and her scolding were filling his belly and roiling into a terrible sort of ache that seemed to clog his throat. Did Hawke think he didn’t want to be happy? Of course he _wanted_ to be happy. He wanted to walk beside her without worrying that she would come to harm. He wanted to laugh at her antics and to return her tempting flirtation without worrying that she would walk away someday. But he’d been alone for so long, and he’d been – _venhedis_ , he’d grown so accustomed to being miserable all the time, and he didn’t know any other way. 

Heedless of his frustration and his anger, Hawke was still talking. “Varania has a right to be angry. But she shouldn’t be angry at you,” she said. “What she went through wasn’t your fault.”

“Stop,” Fenris blurted. Her words were too much. It was too much to think about, and he was already unbalanced by the terrible twisting events of the day, and Hawke’s soft and caring hands on his face were more than he could bear. 

Those soft and caring hands moved down to cradle his neck. “Fenris, I mean it,” she insisted. “You weren’t responsible–”

He pushed her hands away. “Don’t comfort me,” he yelled.

He regretted the words the second they left his mouth, and even more so when her face twisted with hurt. A split second later, she was smiling again. 

“All right,” she said affably. “Sorry. I suppose I should just do my doctoring. Stick to what I’m good at, right?” She chuckled and bent over to dampen the cloth once more. “Actually, scratch that. If I stick to what I’m good at, I’ll never get any better at combat, and I haven’t learned how to fight three fellows at once yet, so never mind. That’ll be a fun month of lessons for you.”

She was smiling still, and she wasn’t looking at him. She continued cleaning his chest more quickly than before, and a horrible mixture of guilt and longing curdled at the back of his tongue. _I’m sorry,_ he thought, but Hawke was still talking.

“Listen, I’m just going to dress the wound with some elfroot salve and a bandage,” she said. She replaced the rag in the bucket, then lifted the cloth from the freshwater basin and began to gingerly clean the wound itself. “I’ll check on it every day, and once it starts healing, you can take the bandage off at night to let it breathe a bit.”

She continued to treat the wound, smearing a thin layer of cool salve on his skin before wrapping his lower chest carefully with linen bandages. Fenris tried to force himself to apologize, but Hawke babbled continuously the entire time that she was dressing his wound: she talked about some foolish prank Sera had played on Anders and some amazing salad recipe that Merrill had given her, and by the time she was tidying up her kit and readying herself to leave his room, his heart was pounding in near-panic at his own failure to speak. 

He took a step toward her. _I’m sorry. Don’t leave,_ he thought. “Hawke–”

“It’s okay,” she interrupted. “I don’t want to be a pain in your ass. But if you, um, you know.” She tugged her ear, then finally looked him in the eye and smiled. “I’m around, all right? Your quarters are cozy and all, but you don’t have to be here by yourself all the time.” 

That was just it. He didn’t _want_ to be here by himself. He wanted her to stay. But her medical kit and basin were in her arms, and she was moving briskly toward the door, and before he could gather the courage to speak again, she was opening the door.

“I’ll see you later,” she said. And then she was gone.

He stared morosely at the closed door for a moment, then sat on the edge of the bed to nurse his roiling thoughts. This entire day had been so much more than he’d bargained for: trying and failing to tell Hawke how he felt in Afsaana, seeing Varania and losing her again, the horrible realization that he wasn’t the protector he thought he was, and then Hawke’s tender words and her tender hands carefully cleaning his skin… 

_Being together wasn’t enough,_ Varania said. But he and Hawke had stayed together this entire time. 

She fought by his side against those thugs even though she could barely hold her own, and she stayed by his side through the terrible row with Varania. She came back to the Lady Luck with him even though he was silent and sullen, and when he shouted and pushed her beloved hands away, she just smiled and laughed like he’d done nothing wrong. 

And now that she was gone, all Fenris wanted was for her to come back. 

He swallowed hard and dropped his gaze to his hands. They were clean now, free of blood and grime thanks to Hawke’s careful washing, and the bucket of seawater was murky and dark with dirt. 

Fenris stared blankly at the bucket of filthy water for a long moment. Then he stood up and went to the chest of clothes in the corner. 

He pulled a clean sleeveless tunic from the chest, then pulled it on with some difficulty and walked over to the door. 

He took a deep, fortifying breath, then opened the door and stepped out of his empty quarters, leaving the bucket of soiled water behind.

###  RYNNE 

Rynne sat on the forecastle deck with her back resting against a bench and her knees pulled up to her chin. The Lady Luck was occupied only by a skeleton crew of ten or eleven sailors, everyone else being in Afsaana, and Rynne was uncharacteristically grateful for the quiet.

She sniffed hard and wiped her cheek on her knee. As much as she loved the Lady Luck, there weren’t many private places she could go for a moment of self-indulgent snivelling. She could probably use Dorian’s quarters, but they were right next door to Fenris’s, and she wanted to give Fenris his space. Besides, she didn’t want him to know she was crying about him. It was embarrassing enough that she was crying at all. 

Rynne didn’t enjoy crying. She much preferred to divert the sadness into more pleasant activities like a game of cards or an amusing chat. Ever since her mortifying moment of weakness during the camping trip on Sundermount, she’d managed to distract herself from her pining by spending time with all her other lovely friends on the crew. 

But everyone else was in Afsaana, so crying was all she could do for now. 

She had to let Fenris go. She couldn’t see another alternative. Every time he rejected her was like a fresh knife to the heart, and as much as she wanted to be around him, it hurt too much knowing he didn’t feel the same way. 

Drawing away from him was going to be awkward, though. Especially since he was the master-at-arms and she still desperately needed weapons training. Maybe Kaaras could help with her training instead. Or Rylen or Cullen, now that they were officially part of the crew. Or Piper! Piper’s chaotic combat seemed much more up Rynne’s alley than Cullen or Rylen’s structured style. Training with Piper could be so much fun.

But Piper was busy with her captain duties. And if Rynne was totally honest, she didn’t _want_ to be trained by Kaaras or Cullen or Rylen, or even by Piper. She wanted to be trained by Fenris, with his lovely stern voice telling her what to do and his lovely strong hands showing her how to move her body.

Maker’s balls, she just _wanted_ Fenris. 

Another stupid tear rolled down her cheek, and she wiped it away. 

“Hawke.”

She jumped in alarm, then hastily wiped her cheeks as Fenris came to sit beside her on the deck. “F-Fenris!” she squeaked. She wrestled a smile onto her face. “What are you doing out here? I thought you’d be brooding for another–”

“What do you want from me?” he said.

Rynne gaped at him. His words seemed rude, but his tone was earnest and his expression was… not at all angry, actually. He looked serious and soft, in fact – the same sort of softness as when they were talking on the boardwalk in Afsaana. 

Her heart did a nervous flip. She let out a little laugh that sounded shrill even to her ears. “What sort of daft question is that?” she asked.

He gazed steadily at her. “I’m a former slave with a tarnished past and no worldly possessions to my name. None of those things bother you?”

She laughed again, more genuinely this time. “As though I didn’t already know all of that,” she said playfully. “Why would you think any of that would bother me?”

He gazed at her for another moment, then looked away and ran a hand through his hair. “I have hidden myself on this ship for over a year. I… Piper gave me a new chance at life, and I have barely taken it. I shunned any luxuries, and I left the ship only when it was required of me–” 

“That’s not true,” Rynne said. “You came to Rialto with me. That wasn’t required.” 

“Before you,” he clarified. “I didn’t want anything before you.”

_Oh Maker._ What did that mean? That sounded promising, right? Was she hallucinating, or did that sound promising? 

Her heart seemed to agree. Her pulse was racing with excitement now, but Fenris was still talking. “Once I was freed, I… I failed to take advantage of what that freedom offered.” He turned to face her more fully. “You were not wrong in what you said before. I never tried to be happy. I simply… survived.”

His face was so serious and earnest, and a rush of tenderness rose in her chest. She reached out and took his hand. “Don’t beat yourself up for that. You needed time–”

“I have nothing to offer you, Hawke,” he said bluntly. “I… you must know that.”

She inhaled carefully through a sudden dizzying rush of hope. If he was saying what she thought he was saying… 

She took his other hand. “I don’t want anything from you,” she said. “I just want you.”

His fingers tensed in hers but he didn’t flinch away, and Rynne gazed desperately into his brilliant green eyes. Her chest felt squirmy and full, like her heart couldn’t quite decide whether to melt or to beat even harder than it already was, and before she could stop to think twice, she was saying the words she’d been squashing down for the past couple of weeks.

“Fenris, I love you,” she blurted. “I know it’s only been a month or so and you probably think I’m acting like some silly girl in a romance novel, but I just… I love you.”

His eyes widened, and a spike of panic prompted her to keep talking. “Honestly, I’ve never felt this way about anyone else and I’ve met a _lot_ of suitors, believe me, but you’re the only one – I mean, not that you’re a suitor, you never even meant to… Maker’s balls.” She released his hands and nervously patted her burning cheeks. “All I mean to say is I… I know I said we could just be friends, but it’s so fucking hard because I just want to be with you and it’s eating me from the inside like little fishes inside my chest just nibbling away at me–”

Fenris cradled her cheek in his palm, and Rynne shut her wayward mouth. His face… Maker’s balls, his beautiful face, this face that she admired more than any face she’d ever seen: he looked so tender, and the tilt of his eyebrows matched the gentle tilt of his half-smiling lips.

He shuffled closer to her, and her breath caught in her chest as the warmth of his shoulder pressed against hers. “Hawke, I…” He trailed off and gently stroked her cheekbone with his thumb, making her heart flutter with joy.

“I’m frightened,” he whispered. “I am frightened to want something. To want… you. But I do.” He swallowed hard. “Even before, when I… when I stopped the kiss.” He gazed seriously into her eyes. “I remember that kiss as if it were yesterday. I wanted to be with you even then.”

A little hiccup burst from her throat. “Then why did you… why couldn’t we?” she asked plaintively. 

He exhaled slowly and smoothed an errant tear from her cheek. “I was a coward,” he said. He dropped his gaze and lowered his hand from her face. “I was… afraid. That you… that I would lose you.” 

She took his hands in hers. “How could you think you would lose me?” she demanded. “I’m not going anywhere.” If he knew how many nights she’d spent lying her hammock thinking about him, or how much idle time she’d spent just fantasizing about sitting next to him and holding his hand like this, he would never think he’d lose her. 

“I have been left before by someone who was supposed to care,” he said quietly. “As you now know.”

She softened and squeezed his hands. “Well… I suppose no one can promise they’ll _never_ leave. No one can say that for sure. But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try.”

“I know that,” he said sharply. Then he sighed and looked her in the eye. “I want to try. That’s why I…” He trailed off. “What are you doing?”

Rynne had shifted away from him and was feeling around in her pocket. A moment later, she pulled a crumpled scrap of parchment from her pocket and held it out to him.

He gave her a chiding look. “You know I can’t read that.”

She winced. “Oh, balls. Of course. I’m an idiot.” She opened the crumpled parchment. “It’s the note Carver put in the pouch of coin he gave me. Can I read it to you?”

He looked even more nonplussed, but nodded anyway, so Rynne unfolded the note and read it out loud.

> Rynne,
> 
> This is emergency money. Keep it safe and hidden. When you get tired of running around with those pirates, use this to come home. Make sure you pay for passage on a reputable ship. 
> 
> You’d better not be in a “family way” when you come back, though. If Mother found out you were going to have a little half-elf baby, she would throw a fit. 
> 
> ~~Love~~ Love,  
>  Carver

When she finished reading the note, she looked at Fenris expectantly.

He raised an eyebrow. “Am I meant to be insulted by this remark about a half-elf baby?”

She tutted and lightly smacked his hand. “That’s not the point. But please do take note that even my dense baby brother could tell how much I fancied you.” She gave him a serious look. “I gave that money away, remember? I don’t need a way back to Kirkwall. I’m not leaving this ship. I’m exactly where I want to be.”

Fenris’s sardonic expression melted into a heart-wrenching look of vulnerability, and he dropped his gaze. Rynne cupped his face in her hands once more and pressed her forehead to his. 

“This is exactly where I want to be,” she whispered. “Here on this ship with you.”

Fenris inhaled slowly, and Rynne finally did what she’d been wanting to do for weeks: she slid onto his lap so she was straddling him. 

His eyes flew wide in surprise. Then Rynne wrapped her arms around his shoulders and hugged him as tightly as she could.

He was stiff and frozen for a moment. Then he released a shaky sigh against Rynne’s collarbone. Suddenly his arms were sliding around her waist and pulling her closer, and when he buried his face against her neck, a joyful ripple of goosebumps ran down her spine. 

He pressed his palms into her back, fingers tense as he held her tight. “I hope you can forgive me,” he whispered. 

She carded her fingers through his beloved hair. “Forgive you for what?” she asked. 

“For turning you away before,” he said. “I wish I hadn’t. I wish…” 

She squeezed him harder and pressed her lips to his hair. “It’s okay,” she whispered. “You don’t have to apologize.”

He exhaled tremulously and pressed his face more firmly to the crook of her neck, and Rynne hid a huge silly smile in his hair. His hair smelled wonderful, like the sweetness of his skin layered with the faint musk of his sweat, and as she savoured the heat of his palms through her shirt and the tightness of his arms as he held her close, she marvelled at the fact that the day had ended here. 

When she’d stepped off the ship in Afsaana this afternoon, she hadn’t expected this. She hadn’t really expected anything, truth be told, aside from an interesting trip in a foreign town. 

This was better than anything she’d dreamed. This was better than any of her countless fond fantasies, because this was _real_. The firmness of Fenris’s arms clutching her body close, and the rise and fall of his chest pressed to hers paired with the caress of his breath against her neck: this was real, just as real as the joyful pounding of her heart and the fluttering rush of hope racing through her veins, and the reality of Fenris was all she had really wanted all along.

Fenris was more than the bodyguard he thought he had to be. He was more than the vapid manly heroes in Rynne’s favourite romance books. He was hurt but he was hopeful, and he was scared but he was trying. And now that he was here in Rynne’s arms, she couldn’t wait to shower him in all the love she’d been waiting so long to give.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More tomorrow! :3
> 
> I am [Pikapeppa on Tumblr,](https://pikapeppa.tumblr.com/) and our lovely artist and creator is [Schoute!](https://schoute.tumblr.com/) Come hang out with us! xo


	23. Hands

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW. ❤️❤️❤️

###  FENRIS 

Fenris lay on his bed gazing up at the ceiling in a happy daze. His entire body still felt like it was buzzing from his and Hawke’s long meandering conversation on the forecastle deck this afternoon.

They’d shared little bittersweet stories of their childhoods, and Fenris marveled at the strangeness of being able to share those stories at all, now that Hawke knew his past. She flirted outrageously with him, which he was able to finally enjoy without reservation, and when Fenris flirted back, her delighted laughter was the most thrilling reward. She prodded him to talk about his favourite places that he’d travelled with Piper, and her questions were incessant as always. But for the first time since they’d met, he was able to fully answer them. 

He could look at her beautiful face and he could openly admire her bright and brilliant smile, because he had nothing left to hide. Hawke had seen the worst of his past, and she wanted to be with him anyway.

Somehow, despite his attempts to push her away and his undeserved coldness, Hawke loved him. And Fenris wanted nothing more than to be wrapped in her arms again. 

Unfortunately, Anders had returned to the ship with an armful of new medical tomes and had called Hawke away to look at some blasted thing or another. Fenris forced himself to let her go, and he’d busied himself as best he could by cleaning and sharpening the Lady Luck’s store of weapons. But the afternoon had gradually melted into evening, and it had been hours now since Anders had pulled Hawke away… 

Fenris pushed aside his frustration. He was too thrilled about the turn this day had taken to be truly annoyed. He settled his head more comfortably on his pillow and closed his eyes.

The weight of Hawke’s slender body resting over his hips and her affectionate arms around his shoulders… he couldn’t decide whether he preferred that breathtaking embrace, or the careful stroke of her fingers over his scarred and spoiled skin. For weeks he’d imagined the feeling of her hands on his skin, but the fantasies were always tainted by shame at the thought of being seen. Ah yes, shame: that vicious but well-earned byproduct of the disgust in the mineworkers’ eyes when he was forced to punish them. 

But Hawke never looked at him with disgust. From the first time they’d spoken in the market in Kirkwall, the look in her eyes had been nothing short of enthusiastic. No, even before that: that time when they’d spotted each other while she was standing on the steps of Lowtown, before they ever even spoke. Her smile was mischief and heat and openness, and never even a hint of disgust. 

He wanted her to look at him that way again. _Kaffas_ , he wanted her to touch him again with tenderness like she had this afternoon. No, not just with tenderness, but with urgency like she had when he’d pinned her to the floor and kissed her, right here in his cabin…

A wriggle of warmth twisted in his belly. He shifted restlessly on his bed, then rolled onto his unwounded side. 

He wanted to see her. Surely she was finished studying with Anders by now. And even if she wasn’t, it wouldn’t be strange for him to go and find out what she was up to. He’d interrupted their sessions before, after all. 

But the thought of going to her… Even after everything that had been said, even with everything laid bare between them, there was still a small and visceral part of his heart that balked at the thought of making his feelings so plain, and for the second time in one day. Perhaps these nerves were to be expected after spending the past few years so profoundly alone, but it didn’t make it any less frustrating.

Fenris rolled onto his back again and stared at the ceiling for a minute longer. Then he pushed himself upright and slid off of the bed. But before he could pull on his tunic, there was a knock at the door. 

_Hawke?_ His heart lodged itself in his throat. He hoped it was Hawke. She was the only person he wanted to see right now. 

He strode over to the door and cracked it open, then threw it wide. Hawke was standing at the threshold, and as soon as she laid eyes on him, her face lit up with a grin. 

“Well well, what’s this?” she purred. Her gaze slid slowly over his bandaged chest. “Were you waiting all lovely and half-naked just for me?”

“Perhaps I was,” he said. He stepped back to let her in.

To his amusement, she blushed. She laughed and fanned herself playfully as she stepped into his room. “Well, that’s a treat I won’t turn down,” she said. 

Fenris gave her a half-smile. She was moving around his room in a slow and aimless manner, and when she paused near his rumpled bed, his heart flipped with excitement.

And perhaps a little anxiety. 

She nibbled her lower lip, and Fenris swallowed as the silence between them started to grow heavy. Then she turned to face him. 

His breath stopped for a moment. Her clear coppery eyes were hot with intent, but her next words were very innocuous. 

“Are you hungry? Did you eat anything?” she asked.

Slightly nonplussed, he shook his head. “Are you?”

She shook her head as well. “I had something with Anders. But I’ll come to the galley with you if you want–” 

“I’m not hungry,” he assured her. The buzzing feeling deep in his abdomen was definitely not hunger, at least not of the kind she meant. 

She nodded and nibbled her lip, and Fenris returned her stare in silence. She was standing near his bed, and he was standing near the door, and the gap between them seemed so incredibly enormous, and he wanted nothing more than to cross it. But he felt somehow frozen in place, paralyzed by the terrifying and delicious _want_ that was humming through his limbs more strongly with every beat of his heart… 

He took a step toward her. Then another. Then he was standing in front of her, and her chin was tilted up and her palms were resting lightly on his bandaged abdomen, and her lush raspberry lips were parting–

“Fenris, I don’t think we should, um, make love tonight,” she blurted.

He blinked, and her pinkened cheeks flamed red. “If that’s even what you were thinking, I mean,” she babbled. “That is, I hope you were thinking the same thing as me. I swear half the time when I think about you it’s to think about ripping your clothes off, but I don’t think we should tonight because you’re wounded and I don’t want to hurt you by accident…”

A little squiggle of disappointment and relief made its way through his belly. Perhaps she was right. It would be moving a little fast if they had sex tonight. Even if it would mean bringing his fondest and most intimidating fantasies to life. 

He took a reluctant step away from her. “A wise thought,” he said softly. “There’s no need to rush.” 

She blew out a breath. “Speak for yourself. I’ve been wanting to throw myself at you since I set foot on this ship.” 

Fenris huffed out a quiet laugh. “Would you believe it if I said I felt the same?”

Her eyes and her smile widened. “No, actually,” she said. “I’d believe you if you said you wanted to throw me _off_ the ship the second I set foot on it.”

He winced. She was joking, but her words still struck a little too true. 

He ran a hand through his hair. “Hawke, I… I’m sorry. I have not been kind–”

She grabbed his hand in both of hers. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding! Maker’s balls, I’m just…” She squeezed his hand and beamed at him. “Honestly, I’m just so happy that you like me. I still feel like I should be pinching myself in case this is a dream.”

Fenris swallowed hard. It felt paltry to say he simply liked her. He meant it when he said he felt the same as Hawke. She claimed never to have felt this way about anyone else; Fenris too had never known anyone who made him feel such a deep and giddy fondness, not even in the occasional dalliances of his youth. 

He loved Hawke. It might only have been just over a month that they’d been on the ship together, but he loved her just the same. But he’d also never confessed those words to anyone before: certainly not to any lover, and not to his mother nor to Varania, not that he could recall. 

But he _wanted_ to tell Hawke. He wanted to return the words she’d said to him, those words that meant so much. But in that guarded and cowardly part of his heart, he was still too afraid. 

He twined his fingers with hers and admired the contrast of her pale golden skin with his darker complexion. When he lifted his eyes to her face again, she was smiling hopefully. 

“Can we lie on your bed?” she asked. “Or is that too bold to ask?”

He nodded, and Hawke smiled more broadly before releasing his hand and crawling onto his bed. 

Fenris slowly sat on the edge of the bed, then laid on his back with his hands resting on his belly just as he usually did. Beside him, Hawke rolled onto her side to face him and tucked one arm beneath her head. 

His heart started to thrum a joyful beat in his chest, laced with just a hint of nerves. He’d never shared a bed with anyone before. When he first became the master-at-arms and moved into this cabin, even having a bed that was large enough for two felt like a needless luxury. To think he now had someone who wanted him, someone who _loved_ him and wanted to share this bed with him… 

He swallowed the lump in his throat. Then Hawke spoke in a soft voice. “Fenris, can I ask you something?”

He turned his head to look at her, and was surprised to find her looking quite serious. “What is it?” he said quietly. 

“How did you leave Minrathous?” she asked. “Varania escaped by winning over a merchant. How did you escape?”

He released a slow sigh and looked up at the ceiling once more. “I didn’t escape right away,” he admitted. “I remained under Danarius’s thumb for nearly a year after Varania left.”

“Why?” she asked softly.

“It didn’t occur to me to leave,” he said. “I… had forgotten what it meant to be free.” He sighed again, then looked at her. “You have not been a slave, Hawke. A slave does not dream of freedom or wonder at possibilities. I thought only of keeping Danarius happy in order to keep my sister safe.”

Her expression was serious and sympathetic, but somehow her sympathy didn’t grate at him the way it did before. Then she reached for his wrist. 

He glanced down. Her hand was sliding over his, and her fingers were twining between his own. Then she shifted a little closer to him and pulled his hand toward her, tucking it close against her chest. 

He swallowed hard at the tenderness of her gesture, then continued to tell his tale. “After Varania left, I was… I felt more hopeless than before. It did not occur to me to run away until I saw some other slaves fighting for their freedom.”

Her eyes widened. “You saw a rebellion?”

“Yes,” he said. “At the lyrium mines. It happened when I was there one day with Danarius. The slaves rose up and fought back. They used their own shackles and their mining tools as weapons. They even managed to kill a few of the slavers.” 

“Wow,” Hawke breathed. 

He nodded. “Danarius made me protect him, but… to see that slaves could fight? That they were willing to die for a chance to be free? It… it forced me to think. And I did think, for months.” He turned his head to face the ceiling again. “Then, one morning when Danarius approached to shackle me as he did every day, I killed him.”

“Just like that?” she said in surprise.

He shot her a sharp look. “It was not easy,” he said. “I had spent most of my life doing what he told me to do. But the disbelief in his face when I crushed the breath from his miserable throat…” He curled his lip. “He never expected such agency from me. He thought I was but a pet that he had tamed. His tamed little wolf.” He scowled at the memory. “An ignominious death was the justice he deserved.”

Hawke was silent for a moment. She stroked his knuckles with her thumb, soothing away his momentary agitation.

“What happened then?” she asked.

“I ran,” he said quietly. “I was pursued by the city guard and wounded, but I killed them and escaped. I stowed away on a Seheronese fishing trawler, but they eventually found me; it was a small ship, after all. And…” He exhaled slowly and shrugged. “Well, you have heard the rest.”

She shuffled closer to him. “You liked being on the fishing boat, didn’t you?”

He nodded. “I did. They were kind and quiet. They taught me to sail, as I told you. I knew them only a few months, but in that time, I felt as if I truly lived.” He shook his head slowly. “It made it all the harder to tolerate the return to slavery when the pirates came.” He took a deep breath and looked away from her. “By the time Piper and Varric raided the slaver ship, I… I had almost given up.”

Hawke was quiet for a moment as she ran her thumb gently along the side of his hand. “I don’t believe that,” she said eventually.

He looked at her. “You don’t believe what?”

“That you would give up. You’re too strong for that.”

He frowned slightly. “You didn’t know me before. I was… cowed. Hopeless.”

“If you were really hopeless, why did you join Piper’s crew?” she asked. “Piper told me she gave you the option to go to the colonies with the other slaves. But you didn’t leave. You stayed on the Lady Luck.”

He shrugged a little irritably. Once again, Hawke was giving him more credit than he was due. “I was angry,” he said. “I wanted the slavers to suffer. Being on this ship gave me the option to fight back.”

Hawke shrugged and continued to stroke his hand with her thumb. “That sounds like a strong choice to me. A fighter’s choice.”

He shot her a flat look, but his irritation was short-lived. Her expression was confident and affectionate and perfectly lovely. 

He carefully rolled onto his unwounded right side so he was facing her. “Ever the optimist, Hawke,” he murmured.

She smiled. “That’s me. Rynne Hawke, the insufferable optimist.”

He gazed adoringly at the cheeky twist of her smile and the warmth in her coppery eyes. “You are not insufferable,” he told her. Then he smirked. “I would gladly suffer your company whenever you deign to give it.”

She laughed brightly, then shifted closer to him. “Was that supposed to be a smooth line? Because it was _not_ so smooth.”

He smiled more broadly, but his heart had just kicked into an excited rhythm. Hawke was very close now, close enough that their slightly-bent knees were touching and her nose was a mere few inches from his. 

He wanted to find a clever response, but he couldn’t. Hawke was so near, near enough that he could smell her warm sandalwood scent. She was still holding his hand, but he wanted to hold more than just her hand; he wanted to hold _her_ , to have her body pressed tightly to his the way it had been earlier when she embraced him on the forecastle deck–

And she was moving closer. No, that wasn’t true; _he_ was moving closer, shuffling nearer to her on the bed so that he could hear the gentle sound of her breath as she inhaled through her parted lips–

And he kissed her. After weeks of waiting and wanting and agonizing, Fenris was kissing Hawke for the second time. But this time couldn’t be more different than the last.

The last time he’d kissed her, his mind was a turmoil of lust and anger and uncertainty. That kiss was a moment more bitter than sweet, burned into his memory as a perfect example of passion that he both regretted and idolized, but this…

This was completely different. There was no regret here. There was no anger and no angst. Instead, there was the longing that had been living in his heart for weeks, which Hawke was finally able to fulfill with the sweetness of her mouth. There was the love that she’d proclaimed to him this afternoon in the deck, and he could only pray she was feeling its return in the impassioned press of his lips to hers. 

Her parted lips were soft beneath his own, and her waist was a smooth dip beneath his roaming hand. She was perfect, and this kiss was perfect, and it became even more so when she cradled his neck in her palm and shifted closer still. 

He encouraged her closeness, pulling her body flush to his with his arm around her waist, and when their hips pressed together, she broke away with a gasp. 

Fenris pulled back slightly and opened his eyes. Her eyes were still closed. “Are you all right?” he whispered.

She nodded and slid her fingers into his hair. “Kiss me again, you handsome fool.” 

He smirked, but he was more than happy to comply with her cheeky demand. He coaxed her lips open by gently nipping her plump lower lip, and when he gently lapped at her tongue, she whimpered and pressed against his groin. 

He exhaled shakily against her mouth. Her lithe body was pressed firmly to his, and the skin of her back was soft and temptingly warm where his errant palm had slid beneath her tunic. Despite her words and the wisdom of taking things slow, he wanted… _fasta vass_ , Fenris _wanted_ her, and he could openly admit that he wanted her, and that alone – the simple and joyful ability to confess that he wanted Hawke: it just made him want her all the more desperately. 

He propped himself up on his right elbow and abruptly pulled her closer before kissing her again. She was practically beneath him now, and her fingers were clutching his shoulder in a firm grip, and– 

And then her fingers left his shoulder. She was grabbing his hand firmly and pulling it away from the soft warm skin of her back. She slid his greedy fingers up over her waist and then over her ribs–

Then Hawke arched her spine and pressed his hand to her breast, and he gasped into her mouth. He could feel her nipple beneath his palm, so firm that it was budding through her loose tunic… 

Her tunic. He could feel her nipple through her tunic. 

She wasn’t wearing a breastband or a bustier. 

He broke away from her lips. “ _Festis bei umo canavarum,_ ” he groaned.

She pressed his hand more firmly to her breast. “What does that mean?” she breathed. “Something nice, I hope?”

He gazed at her with a mixture of adoration and total exasperation. “It means ‘you will be the death of me’,” he said. He reached down and inched his fingers beneath the hem of her tunic.

She burst out a little laugh, but seconds later she was panting fitfully, a rapid desperate staccato of breath as his hand moved higher over her ribs. “I’m sorry,” she whimpered. “I just, I – I don’t want to interfere with your wound…” 

He cupped her bare breast in his palm. She gasped and arched toward him, and he kissed her parted lips once more before pulling away. “Don’t apologize,” he murmured. “Perhaps I can do something that won’t affect my wound.”

“Like what?” she panted. Then she grinned. “Fenris, are you going to teach me something?”

He smiled back at her and stroked her nipple with his thumb. He was hardly an expert in this arena; it had been years since he’d been with anyone. But hopefully Hawke wouldn’t be able to tell.

“I could,” he said. “Is that what you want?”

“Yes,” she said loudly. “Maker’s balls, yes. I…” She broke off, then clumsily started pulling her tunic up, and Fenris gaped at her stupidly as she pulled the garment off and threw it to the floor.

Hawke was half-naked, bare to him from the waist up, and she was… _venhedis,_ she was beautiful. Small breasts and tight budded nipples and skin that would be a burnished gold if it saw more of the sun, and the delicate lines of her collarbones rising and falling as she panted for breath, and as Fenris shamelessly admired her, he couldn’t quite believe his fortune. She was here, in his bed with his hand roaming from her slender neck over the crux of her collarbones and down, and as he happily lowered his mouth to her breast, he couldn’t help but marvel at the difference a single day could make. 

In the space of a single day, he now found himself curled on his bed with Hawke’s willing body stretching beneath him as he tasted the delicate tip of her breast. Her hands were pulling gently at his hair and her pleading voice was floating through his ears, and… _fasta vass,_ this was everything he’d barely dared to want, and now that she was here, he could admit that he hadn’t really thought this would happen, not truly. 

Having Hawke here… it had been a hope. A very dear hope that was too close to his guarded heart, and despite his vague intention to tell her how he felt in Afsaana, Fenris hadn’t really trusted that this could all come true. 

But Hawke had brought his hopes to life. She _was_ his hopes brought to life, a lucid dream given colour and form and sound, and as his hand slid down her ribs and over the planes of her belly, he marvelled at how very tangible she was. 

Her breath was sharp in his ears as he unbuttoned her breeches, and the movements of her hands were impatient and rough as she shoved her breeches down, and the glossy sheen between her legs was the most enticing indication of how strongly this foray was wanted by them both. 

She grabbed his hand. “Teach me,” she begged.

He smiled. Only Hawke would make that particular request of him with _this_ particular degree of nakedness. And only Hawke had ever tempted him to want to fulfill such a request.

He pulled his hand from her grip and stroked his fingers between her legs. 

She arched her whole body and spread her legs wider. “Fenris,” she mewled. 

He captured her gasping lips in a kiss. He smoothed his fingers slowly through her slippery warmth, but she was bucking her hips desperately fast, and Fenris eventually peeled away from her lips to whisper against her ear. 

“Move _with_ me, Hawke,” he told her. “It is not a race.” 

She slowed down with a groan of frustration. “But I want you so much…”

“I’m right here,” he whispered. 

“I know,” she whined. “I know. But I really…” She broke off with a gasp as he stroked the swollen bud between her legs. 

“Focus your attention here,” he said quietly. “Tell me if you want more or less.”

She strained against his hand. “A little less,” she panted.

He lessened the pressure of his fingers. A moment later, she twisted on the sheets and spread her legs wider still. “Oh Maker, _yes_...” 

Her voice was high and strained, and it sent a hot rush of lust burning down his throat. He inhaled slowly and kept his fingers light between her legs, and soon she was rolling her hips in a slow rhythm that matched the gentle slide of his finger around her precious tiny bud. 

Her cheeks were pink and her raspberry lips were parted with pleasure, and Fenris watched her lovely face with an attentive sort of hunger until she threw her head back in the pillow with a rapturous cry. 

She shuddered and pressed her hips insistently toward his hand. “P-please,” she gasped. 

He slid his fingers low to stroke her cleft, and she lifted her hips right off the bed. “Fenris, please!” she sobbed.

He stared at her. She was so beautiful and so shameless, begging him with her pleading words and her twisting golden body, and her lack of inhibitions was… well, it was _Hawke_. This was who Hawke was. She was uninhibited and open, asking him questions and telling him about her life without any reservations at all, offering herself to him and asking him to love her in return, and he’d been too scared to meet her halfway. 

But he didn’t want to be scared. He wanted to be open like she was, to give her all the affection she deserved and all the heated press of emotion that he’d kept too close to his chest. And this was how he would start. Here and now, with Hawke’s arching body under his hands, he would start to give her everything.

“What do you want, Hawke?” he asked.

She opened her eyes, and Fenris breathlessly returned her heated stare. Her ribs were rising and falling with the rapid cadence of her breaths, but she didn’t speak.

He lightly petted her glorious heat. “Tell me, and it is done,” he murmured. “Do you want me to do that again?” 

“I… I want _more_ ,” she panted. “I need… I feel like…” She broke off with a whimper and thrust her hips toward his hand, and Fenris knew what she meant. 

He hovered his fingers over her entrance. “Can I–”

“Can you fuck me? Please?” she blurted. 

Her drew back slightly in surprise – and undeniable excitement. He was going to suggest sliding his fingers inside of her, but if she wanted him… 

She reached for the laces of his breeches, but he gently caught her hands. “I thought you were worried about my wound,” he said. Frankly, he didn’t care about his wounded side; if it started to bleed again, Hawke could simply patch it up. The shining possibility of giving himself to her was overriding any other impulse that he had right now.

She sighed sharply. “I… fuck. You’re right,” she admitted. She pulled her hands from his and pressed her legs together in frustration. “ _Fuck,_ ” she whined. “I just… Fenris, I really…”

He traced the line of her jaw, then turned her face so she was looking him in the eye. “If you want me, I am yours,” he said softly. 

Her frustrated expression melted into an almost disbelieving look of joy, and Fenris’s heart squeezed at the hope in her face. Then she smiled and gently pinched his chin. “Such a smooth talker,” she murmured.

He gave her a little half-smile. Then, without moving his steady gaze from her face, he slid his hand over her knee to pull her legs apart. 

Her breathing was growing short and sharp again, and even more so when he ran two fingers through her slippery folds. Then, slowly and carefully, he slid one finger inside of her.

She keened with pleasure and arched beneath him. _Venhedis,_ she was so slick and hot, and the smoothness of her flesh pressing around his finger kicked his rising desperation even higher. 

He forced himself to breathe through a fresh and dizzying rush of desire. “Do you want this?” he asked. He curled his finger slightly, and she jerked. 

“ _Yes!_ ” she cried. “Fenris, please!”

He curled his finger again, and she clawed at the bed and sobbed. “I want you so much, it’s not fair…”

He carefully withdrew his finger from her heat, then stroked her cheek with his knuckles. “Then let me do this,” he urged. “I want to be with you.”

She looked at him worriedly. “But what if I hit you in the side with my knee or something clumsy like that? I don’t want to hurt you…”

“It is worth the risk,” he said. “Being with you is worth the risk.” As soon as he said the words, he realized it wasn’t just the sex that he was talking about, not anymore. 

Fenris didn’t like taking risks. For as long as he could remember, he avoided taking chances when the potential losses were more than he could afford. But not being with Hawke – not taking that risk to let her in all those weeks ago when she’d first offered herself to him: he’d regretted that choice ever since, and he wasn’t going to make that same mistake again. 

He ran his thumb along her cheekbone. “It is my risk to take, Hawke. I want this.”

A slow and brilliant grin lit her face, and she eagerly nodded. “All right. Yes. Yes, let’s–”

He cut her off with a kiss. Her tongue stroked his own, and her fingers were tugging at the laces of his breeches once more and loosening the knots and–

And she was touching him. Her impatient fingers had burrowed into his half-loosened breeches, and she was stroking his cock. 

“Hawke,” he moaned.

She tried to wrap her fingers around him, but his breeches weren’t loose enough. “Please,” she mewled.

“W-wait a moment,” he panted. He pulled her hand out of his breeches and pushed the garment down with his left hand, ignoring the ache in his side as he twisted to free himself. But before his breeches were fully down to his knees, Hawke was pulling impatiently on his hips. 

And her impatience was feeding his own. His breathing was just as harsh and hurried as Hawke’s, and it grew harsher still as she pushed herself up on one hand and kissed his neck. 

Her tongue on the side of his throat, and now her teeth in a gentle nip, _fasta vass…_ Fenris gasped for breath and shoved desperately at his breeches. At long last, he finally kicked them away and settled between her legs, and when he was poised and ready, he looked her in the face. 

Her eyes were wide and her breaths were sharp, and her fingers were clenching against his arms. As Fenris stared at her, he was seized by a ringing sense of unreality. He’d imagined this so many times – what it would be like to have Hawke beneath him, and to have her treasured hands on his marked skin and her treasured body sharing his bed. He’d imagined this and wished for this and rued the thought that he might never have it, and now that she was here… 

_Venhedis,_ he was nervous. It had been so long since he’d done this, and just as long since anyone other than those vile Tevinter doctors had seen his body bare. And no one had ever mattered so much before. Hawke was so important, and this was her first time, and Fenris needed to make it right. 

She stroked his cheek. “Are you all right?” she asked. 

He snapped his attention back to her. “Yes,” he said. “Everything is fine.”

She studied him for a moment, then smiled. “It’s all right, Fenris. I’m nervous too.” 

He sighed and bowed his head. “I’m sorry,” he lamented. “It’s… it has been some time.” He shook his head dismissively. “But it doesn’t matter now. _You_ have never–”

She stroked his hair. “How long?”

“Six years, give or take,” he said. 

Her fingers went still in his hair. “Why so long?”

He took a deep breath. “I received the tattoos six years ago,” he told her. “The way those doctors looked at me and… handled me. I did not want to be touched after that.” He remembered it all too clearly: the humiliation of their cold eyes on his naked skin and their clinical hands prodding and cutting his unwilling body, and the months of agony as the lyrium scars healed.

_Strange hands on his skin and strange eyes on his naked body._ He shoved the memory away and looked into Hawke’s wide whiskey-coloured eyes. “I did not want to be touched,” he told her. “I barely wanted to be looked at. But it is different now,” he assured her. “With you, it is different.”

“Are you sure?” she breathed. She looked quite stricken now. “I don’t mean to…” She covered her mouth with one hand. “I’m so stupid, Fenris,” she mumbled. “I didn’t even think about all of that. I mean, I knew you didn’t want the tattoos, but I didn’t… I just thought you wanted me to keep my greedy pervy hands to myself.”

He shook his head. “You’re mistaken. Yours are the only hands I have wanted.”

She swallowed hard, then dropped her gaze and bit her lip, and Fenris watched her with a fresh and heart-wrenching surge of affection. 

He tipped her chin up until she met his gaze. Her eyes were wet, and Fenris studied her fondly for a moment before speaking.

“Hawke,” he said softly. “I never needed anyone, or wanted anyone. Until now.” 

A tear escaped the corner of her eye, and she beamed at him. “Keep up that smooth talk, you handsome fool,” she said. “It’ll get you everywhere with me.”

He grinned, then flexed his hips and slid his cock against her.

Her smile melted into a look of pleasure and surprise, and Fenris continued to rock himself between her legs until they were both panting fitfully. She was so very slick and warm, and his cock was pulsing with want, and any remaining nerves he had were chased away by the temptation between her legs. 

He pressed his forehead to hers. “Are you ready?” he breathed.

She stroked his face. “Yes,” she panted. “I’m ready.”

He nodded tightly, then reached down with his left hand and positioned himself at her entrance. Then, very slowly, he began to fill her up. 

A breathy moan escaped her lips, and Fenris caught it with his lips and fed his own pleasured moan back to her. Her fingers were tightening on his biceps with every slow shift of his hips, and by the time he was fully sheathed, her nails were biting into his skin.

He broke away from her kiss and pressed his lips to her ear. “Are you all right?” he breathed.

“Yes,” she whimpered. “I… I feel so fucking _full_.” She burst out a breathless little laugh.

“Does it hurt?” he asked. 

“No, no,” she said hastily. “No, it’s… I...” She shifted her hips experimentally, taking him just a little bit deeper. 

Fenris jerked with pleasure, and she gasped and tilted her hips, and he dropped his lips to her neck. “ _V-venhedis…_ ” he groaned, and he nipped her damp neck.

She let out another little sob of pleasure and tilted her hips toward him. “I hope _that_ means something nice?” she moaned. 

He couldn’t reply. She felt so good and she tasted like sweetness and salt, and he couldn’t find the words to respond. 

He kissed her hard and flexed his hips, and her cry of pleasure echoed into his mouth. They fell into a slow and rolling rhythm, hips meeting and moving apart in a smooth and steady grind, and a dull pang of pain pulled at his wounded left side with every thrust. But Hawke’s fingers were twisting in his hair and stroking his neck, and the slick pleasure of her body and her tender hands on his skin was more than enough to drown the pain away. 

They moved together in tandem, and Fenris inhaled her scent and her breath and her eager little cries, and with every stroke of her hands and every glorious thrust, his sense of giddy wellbeing continued to grow: Hawke was here, sweat-laced and panting with pleasure and pushing him toward his peak with her every ecstatic cry, and before he knew it, before he meant for it to happen, he was shuddering and releasing his rapture as a guttural groan against her throat. 

She tilted her head back with a gasp, and Fenris nipped her neck, leaving a delirious trail of tiny bites along the margins of her throat until his climax left him boneless.

He sighed and relaxed into Hawke’s supine form. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, and as their sweat dissipated into the relative cool of his cabin, her hands began to move. 

He sighed leisurely into her collarbone. Her slender hands were drifting over his back, trailing slowly over the raised scars that traversed his skin. There was something so soothing about the feel of her hands, the firm stroke of her uncallused fingers and the care they left in their wake, and Fenris wished there was some way to capture this moment perfectly in his memory, like a carefully rendered oil painting. With every gentle pass of her hands across his back, it was like she was wiping the old memories away, pushing away the pain and the hurt and clearing space for her own caring caresses instead.

More than the sex, more than the pleasure he’d stroked from Hawke’s twisting body or the rapture she’d pulled from him with the rolling of her hips, this moment of afterglow stood out: this feeling of her hands on his body – her hands and all the love and pleasure and care that she gave to him by smoothing them across his scarred and knotted skin. 

“Do they hurt?” she murmured. “The scars?” 

He drew in a deep, relaxed breath. “Not anymore, no.”

She hummed in acknowledgement, then traced the tip of his ear delicately with her fingers. “Well, if they do ever hurt, I’ve been told that massage is very good for painful scars.”

He huffed in amusement. “Is that so?”

“It is,” she said pertly.

He lifted himself on his elbows to look down at her. “Are you any good at massage?” he asked.

She smiled cheekily. “Well, we’ll never know unless I try.”

He chuckled, and her smile broadened before turning soft and sweet. She reached up and brushed a lock of hair from his eyes. “You look happy,” she said softly.

He regarded her with some surprise. “I am happy,” he said. Then he realized how significant this was.

He was happy. Fenris was happy. And it was a deeper happiness than the momentary amusement of bantering with Piper and Varric. It was a richer sense of wellbeing than the fleeting peace he derived from meditating at the bow of the ship. For the first time in years, Fenris felt peaceful and _good_ all the way down to his muscles and the core of his belly. 

“Are _you_ happy?” he asked her.

She grinned at him. “Are you kidding? This is exactly what I wanted. I’ve never been more happy.” 

He stroked her cheek. “Neither have I,” he murmured. 

Her grin softened into something so heart-poundingly sweet, and Fenris gazed at her in total adoration. That soft smile on her face: this was the smile that had drawn him unerringly since the day they’d met, and which he’d fled for fear of what he might lose. 

But now, in the warmth of Hawke’s arms and the heat of her gentle smile, there was no fear. There were no reservations. There was the desire that they’d finally sated, and there was the love he had yet to speak.

And most of all, there was happiness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Piper and Cullen will return next time! But, er, I'm unfortunately tied up for the next few weekends, so I'm not sure exactly when the next chapter will be. Mid-October, perhaps!
> 
> Thanks for your patience, friends! I am [Pikapeppa on Tumblr,](https://pikapeppa.tumblr.com/) and our artist/creator genius is [Schoute!](https://schoute.tumblr.com/) xo


	24. Place

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s note about what’s coming next: Schoute and I do have another big plot arc brewing, but we’re also garbage trash for our babes, so everyone is going to have to suffer through a couple weeks of fluff and smut sprinkled with a dash of plot. We hope you’re willing to stick around this dumpster fire! XD

###  PIPER 

The day after their visit with Deshanna, Piper and Cullen returned to the Lady Luck. The crew who were guarding the ship hadn’t yet had their shore leave in Afsaana, and the Lady Luck’s other officers would soon be back as well to join Piper as she took her turn guarding the ship.

Merrill was one of the crew who hadn’t yet been to Afsaana, but Piper made sure to catch the little Dalish cook before she left. “Merrill, do you have a minute?”

“Of course, _lethallan_! What do you need?”

“About the Arlathan Forest,” Piper began, and Merrill’s face instantly lit up. 

Piper held up a warning hand. “I haven’t run it past the others yet, but I’m hoping to talk to them today or tomorrow. I know you can’t really say where that, er, that Vir’Tual’salan place is, if it’s even there–”

“Oh, I’m sure there’s something there,” Merrill assured her. “It’s just a matter of exploring the forest and finding the hidden secrets, you’ll see!”

Merrill’s bright green eyes were wide and winsome, and Piper shook her head in amusement. “You know just how to reel me in, don’t you?” she teased.

Merrill giggled, and Piper chuckled as well before going on. “I want as much information as you can give me before I propose the idea to the boys. If we’re going to do this – _if_ we decide to venture close to Tevinter territory – everyone needs to feel safe. If they’re going to feel safe, they need to know what we’re walking into.” She smirked and tucked her hands in her pockets. “A safe and happy crew are crew who sing my praises, and you know how much I love that.”

“Yes, of course,” Merrill said eagerly. “I’ll collect all my notes and the books I have about the Arlathan Forest – Elgar'nan, I’ve got an entire pile! – and I can see if there are any more at that lovely bookshop in Afsaana, oh, there’s so much to–”

Piper laughed and squeezed Merrill’s arm. “Easy there! Your notes will be more than enough. Actually,” she said, “maybe you should just be there when I float the idea past them. Is that all right with you?”

“Yes!” Merrill clapped her hands and did a little hop. “I’ll still go to that bookshop though, I’m sure there will be something there that will help, especially with convincing Fenris – you know how grumpy he can be about elven tales and new places. But if I find enough information and I say just the right things–” She broke off and smiled sheepishly. “I’m babbling again, aren’t I?”

“You are,” Piper said warmly. “And it’s wonderful. Now get that cute little butt of yours to Afsaana and have a good time. And don’t make it all about finding books,” she called out as Merrill skipped away. 

“I won’t, I promise!” Merrill called back. She slid down the rope ladder to the rowboat below.

Piper sighed happily and turned around to watch her lovely crew. Cullen and Rylen were chatting at the starboard taffrail, and the crew who were leaving for Afsaana were joking around with those who were coming back. Piper had already checked in with Anders, who was busily dissecting a kidney that he’d somehow gotten his hands on, but she had yet to spot Dorian, Varric or Fenris. Maybe they hadn’t yet returned from Afsaana.

“Piper.” 

She turned and smiled at Fenris, who was sauntering toward her in a surprisingly relaxed manner. “You must’ve read my mind,” she said.

He raised an eyebrow. “How so?”

“I was just wondering where you were,” she said. “Did you have a good time in Afsaana? With a certain lovely ex-Kirkwall lady, perhaps?” She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. In all honesty, she hoped Fenris had finally gotten out of his own head and made a move on Rynne. Watching them tiptoe awkwardly around each other was getting more frustrating with every passing day. 

He rubbed his mouth, then lowered his hand. “I have a favour to ask.”

Piper eyed him with growing interest. Was that a hint of a smirk on his face? “What sort of favour?” she asked. “A loan for your gambling debts? A kidney, maybe? Anders has a spare he might be able to give you.”

Fenris frowned. “No. I…” He tugged his ear, and Piper’s happy suspicions grew as the tips of his ears started turning pink. 

“Do you need sex advice?” she said excitedly. “Oh, please tell me you need sex advice for our lovely Lady Rynne. Now, usually with a maiden I’d say to be gentle, but I think what Rynne would want is a good hard–”

“Do you want to hear the favour or not?” Fenris demanded. 

She stared avidly at him. His ears were red now, but despite the sharpness of his words, he didn’t look as angry as he usually did when she prodded him about Rynne. In fact, he didn’t look angry at all – only faintly annoyed, which was typical for when she was pestering him.

“You’re in a good fucking mood,” she accused. “Does this mean–?”

“ _Fasta vass,_ Piper, shut your mouth for a minute,” he said in exasperation. 

She cackled. “Is that how you ask all the girls for favours?”

“It is how I ask _you_ for a favour, since you won’t listen otherwise,” he said waspishly. “I was hoping to borrow one of your pillows. I know you have about a dozen in your quarters.”

Piper grinned wickedly. “And why exactly do you need another pillow?” She poked his arm. “I know you’re a one-pillow kind of man. I’ve seen your sad bachelor bed. What do you need with a second pillow, hm?”

He scoffed and looked away from her, and Piper waited impatiently as he folded his arms. Finally he met her eyes once more, and that tiny telltale smirk was on his lips again. 

“It is for Hawke,” he said, and Piper whooped.

“Fucking finally!” she said, and she punched him in the arm. “Rocking the boat now, are you? When did this happen? Yesterday morning? Afternoon? The dark of night under a full moon? Did she make the first move, or did you? I bet it was her, she’s a bold one–”

“I will return the pillow in time,” Fenris interrupted loudly. “It will be a temporary borrowing until we – until she – I will buy another the next time we make port.”

“Why not go get one in Afsaana?” she asked.

He frowned. “I would prefer not to go back to Afsaana during this stay.”

Piper sobered at this. “Why? Did something bad happen?” She narrowed her eyes. “Do I need to duel someone for you? Just point them out and they’re as good as gutted.”

“That won’t be necessary,” he said drolly. “But yes, something… unpleasant happened.” 

She frowned more deeply, but he shook his head. “Perhaps another time,” he said. “But you haven’t answered my request. Can I borrow a pillow?”

“Of course,” she said with an impatient wave of her hand. “But seriously, come on, tell me how it happened with Rynne! I want details!”

He eyed her apprehensively. “Why?”

“Because I’m happy for you, you dithering dumbass,” she blurted. “You look happy. You’re way more relaxed than usual.”

His eyebrows shot up. “You can tell that?”

“Your moods are as obvious as the weather, Fen,” she drawled. She smiled slyly. “So you admit you’re happy?”

He slowly ran a hand through his hair, then gave her a tiny smile. “Yes,” he said quietly. “I am.”

“Good,” she said warmly, and she punched him affectionately in the arm. 

His smile broadened slightly. Then they looked away from each other toward the Afsaana bay instead. 

Despite having asked his favour, Fenris was making no move to leave, and Piper wiggled her bare toes idly on the deck as she waited for him to speak. She was positively itching to ask him more questions, but he was already being unusually forthcoming by telling her about himself and Rynne, and she didn’t want to alienate him by pushing too hard.

When a long, boring minute passed without him saying anything, Piper bit the bullet and turned to face him. “So which pillow are you going to borrow?” she said pertly. “Make sure you inspect them carefully before you choose. Some of them have seen more, um, _action_ than others–”

He interrupted her. “I am happy for you and Cullen, as well.”

She raised her eyebrows in genuine surprise. “Really?” she said. 

He raised an eyebrow, and she shrugged. “I mean, well… thanks!” She peered at him curiously. “I, uh, actually wasn’t sure you liked Cullen.”

He frowned slightly. “Why wouldn’t I?”

_You don’t like anyone at first,_ she thought, but she declined to say this. “You never liked it when I went to visit him in Kirkwall,” she said instead. “You were always being so boring with the scolding and the warnings…” 

He shot her an exasperated look. “I didn’t like the needless risks or the foolhardy disguises or the sneaking around or the repeated incarcerations.” He shrugged. “Cullen, on the other hand, I don’t mind.”

Piper grinned. “That’s a ringing endorsement coming from you.”

Fenris gave her a frank look. “He is a good man. Principled and moderate. He is good for you.”

Piper cackled and punched him playfully in the arm. “You mean he reins me in. You think he tames me.”

“No one could do that,” Fenris said seriously. “I mean only that he is a good balance for you.”

She sobered as she studied his earnest face. He was being so open. And so _personal_. It was both nice and weird at the same time.

She smiled and elbowed him gently. “I think Rynne will be like that for you.”

He smiled faintly and ran a hand through his hair again. “I… think you are correct.”

She grinned at him. Then the sound of booted footsteps drew her attention.

She turned and beamed at Cullen, who was approaching them. “Cullen! Guess what?” she blurted, then she broke off and glanced shiftily at Fenris. She was on the verge of telling Cullen about the Lady Luck’s new couple, but Fenris was so private. Just because he’d told Piper his happy news didn’t mean he’d want it bandied about the whole ship.

Cullen gave her a quizzical look as he sidled up to her. “What is it?”

Fenris shrugged and looked away, but the tiny smile was blooming across his face again. “Go on. Tell him,” he said to Piper. “I am not attempting to hide it.”

Piper’s eyes widened. That alone was a huge deal. But Fenris was clearly in a sharing mood, and she didn’t want to spoil it by pointing out how unusual it was. 

She turned to Cullen. “Fenris and Rynne are finally fucking,” she announced.

Cullen’s face turned red, and Fenris sighed. “ _Fasta vass._ ”

Cullen cleared his throat and smiled uncertainly at Fenris. “Ah, congratulations! I, er… you must be, um, pleased.”

“Apparently not as pleased as Piper,” he deadpanned, and he gave her a reproving look.

She cackled. “Of course I’m pleased. I’m well on my way to turning the Lady Luck into a — what did you call it that one time? A perpetual bacchanalia?”

Fenris rolled his eyes and stepped away. “I am going to your quarters for a pillow. You have my thanks.”

“I don’t need thanks!” she called after his departing back. “I need raunchy details!”

He ignored her as he walked away toward the captain’s cabin, and Piper snickered before turning to Cullen and wrapping her arms around his waist. “I should rename the Lady Luck to the Lady Lust. What do you think?”

He smiled at her. “I think not. The ship’s name is perfect just as it is.”

His soft brown eyes were full of fondness, and an answering thrill of affection filled Piper’s chest. She tightened her arms around his waist. “So,” she said quietly. “Now that we’re back on the ship, what should we do?” She wiggled her eyebrows salaciously.

His cheeks pinkened once more, and he glanced around shiftily before replying. “Do we, er, have time?” he said. “I thought you were waiting for your officers to return so you could discuss your next move.”

“ _Our_ next move, Cullen,” she said firmly. “You’re one of us, remember? And you’re right, but Dorian is always running late.” She gave him a coy look. “We definitely have time.”

Cullen smiled more widely, but before he could reply, Varric wandered over to join them. “Cap. Curly,” he said with an affable nod. “Sorry to break up the love-fest.”

Cullen cleared his throat awkwardly, and Piper snickered as she released him from her embrace. She turned to Varric and bowed ostentatiously. “At your service, as always,” she said cheerfully. “Are you looking for a hug, too?” 

“Thanks, but I’ll pass for now,” Varric said with a smirk. “Just wanted to let you know Dorian is–”

“–running late, I know,” Piper drawled. “He’s still in Afsaana, isn’t he?”

“Yep,” Varric said. “Said something about needing his own rowboat to bring back his new goodies from the tailor.” He rubbed his stubbled chin. “The way he spends, I’m surprised he ever has any coin at all.”

Piper shrugged cheerfully. “It’s a tradeoff. And I’m not complaining. _Someone_ on this ship has to look presentable.” She gestured wryly at her own patchwork breeches and plain billowy shirt. 

Varric smirked. “Oh, were you trying to keep up an impression of respectability that I didn’t know about?”

“Trying and failing, clearly,” she replied. She patted Varric’s shoulder. “In any case, we’re in no rush. We can all just meet in my quarters when Dorian gets back. Make sure you all knock before you come in, though.” She shot Cullen a heated glance. 

He rubbed the back of his neck bashfully, and Piper happily admired his pinkening cheeks. Varric rolled his eyes good-naturedly and tucked his thumbs into his sash. “Sure you didn’t want to discuss anything before Sparkler got back? He said we can start without him for anything non-essential.”

Piper snorted. “Of course he did. Unfortunately for him, he _is_ essential for what I want to tell you all.” She looked at Varric more seriously. “Merrill has an idea – actually, we can’t discuss our next move anyway, since I want her to join us. But it’s a grand idea for a grand adventure. Dorian needs to be here to hear it along with you and Fenris.”

Beside her, Cullen shifted his weight. Piper glanced up at him idly, then frowned; he looked slightly awkward. But before she could ask what was wrong, Varric clicked his tongue thoughtfully. “How big an adventure are we talking here? Because we’re still low on funds.”

Piper snapped her fingers. “Right, right. We had meant to loot a ship after we scraped the hull, hadn’t we?”

Varric nodded. “Yeah. I mean, we have enough to float us for a while…”

Piper snickered. “Very good nautical pun. The captain greatly approves.”

Varric smirked at her. “... so it depends on how far this adventure will take us.” 

Piper pursed her lips and did a quick mental calculation. “It would be about a week of travel with good winds. Maybe a few days more.”

Varric hummed an acknowledgement. Then he looked at Cullen, who had been silent since Varric’s arrival. “Any thoughts, Curly?” he asked.

Cullen’s eyebrows rose. “Oh. Ah, I… I am not an officer of the Lady Luck, it’s not my place to speak.” He took a small step back. “In fact, I… if you’d rather discuss these matters without me…”

Piper frowned, and Varric tutted. “Come on, I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t want your opinion. Besides, we’re not precious about that rank stuff here.”

Cullen glanced at Piper uncertainly, and she nodded eagerly. He took a deep breath, then turned to Varric again. “I believe the needs of the crew should be considered first,” he said tentatively. “They may also want to… to loot a ship after spending their coin during their shore leave.” He glanced at Piper. “But if you think there may be a chance of treasure on this venture of yours…”

“A strong chance, from what I’ve been told,” she replied.

Cullen nodded slowly. Then he suddenly straightened up. “What about– ah, but that may be too bold…”

Piper stared at him. “What?” she asked. “What did you have in mind?”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “I was thinking… a vote among the crew, perhaps?” He smiled sheepishly at her and Varric. “Fenris mentioned that pirates tend to vote on certain decisions, and I quite like the idea. It’s not something we did in the navy.”

Piper shot Varric a quick grin, and he smiled knowingly back at her before looking up at Cullen. “Interesting idea, Curly. The crew doesn’t usually get a formal vote about what we do next, but we’ll definitely think on it.” 

Cullen gave Varric a little half-bow, and Varric’s smile widened. He patted Cullen’s elbow, then turned to Piper. “All right, I’ll catch up with you later.”

Piper gave him a playful salute, and he waved casually before wandering away. Once Varric was out of earshot, Cullen gave Piper a shrewd look.

She blinked up at him. “What’s on your mind?” 

He continued to study her carefully. “You exchanged a look. You and Varric. May I ask what that was about?”

Piper smiled and poked his chest. “I told you I was going to find a place for you on the ship, and I meant it.”

Cullen’s eyebrows rose. “You… you’re not considering making me an officer, are you?”

“And what if I was?” she said. She tilted her head and regarded him seriously. “Would you not want to be?”

“No, no, it’s not – it’s not that,” he said hastily. “It’s just… I only just arrived on your ship, and I’m not… your other crew, they might not be pleased about it…” 

“And that’s why it’ll go to a vote,” she explained. “But I would only put it out to them if _you_ wanted to be an officer. Varric and I were thinking that you and he would share the role of quartermaster.”

Cullen’s eyes widened even further. “You can do that? Split a role in such a way?”

Piper lifted her chin. “I do whatever I want,” she said belligerently. Then she grinned. “As long as the crew don’t hate me for it, of course. But yes, there’s nothing saying I can’t split the role. Varric will stay in charge of provisioning and keeping the ship running smoothly, and you’ll be in charge of managing the crew’s daily activities and representing their interests on the ship. Exactly as you did just now, when Varric asked you that question.”

“Was that a test, then?” Cullen said in surprise.

She snorted and poked his abdomen. “No, you silly handsome human. If anything, it was proof that you’d be great at the role. _If_ you want it,” she added. Then she snapped her fingers. “Oh, the other thing you and Varric would share is challenging me if you think I’m making a dumb choice. Dumber than usual, I mean,” she said with a grin. “That would be part of your grand role in representing the crew’s wishes.”

Cullen stared at her speechlessly, and Piper finally laughed and pushed his abdomen. “Oh Cullen, what’s wrong? Pirate’s got your tongue?”

He shook his head slowly. “It’s…” He trailed off and pressed his lips together, and Piper waited patiently as he gathered his thoughts.

Finally he met her eye. “This is not what I’m accustomed to. In the navy, there’s no questioning the captain. There is… the interests of the lowest-ranked sailors… you hope your superiors will represent your interests, but there is no certainty that they will.” He shook his head again. “You inviting me to question you…”

He trailed off again, and Piper swallowed hard. He was looking at her in that marveling way that he so often did, as though he’d never seen anything like her before, and a fresh swelling of fondness and sympathy filled her chest.

She stepped close to him and stroked his cheek. “This is not the navy, Cullen,” she said, quietly but firmly. “We do things differently here on the Lady Luck. You always have a voice, and I always want to hear it.”

He took a deep breath, then took her hand in his and kissed her knuckles. “Piper… thank you,” he murmured. “I can never thank you enough–”

“Stop,” she interrupted gently. She stroked his cheek again. “Really, I should be thanking you. I know it wasn’t easy for you to leave the navy behind…”

He twined his fingers with hers. “In some ways, it wasn’t easy. But in other ways…” He looked out at the bay for a moment, and Piper shamelessly admired the slow smile that was blooming across his scarred lips. 

He turned to face her again, and the easy happiness in his face made her heart skip a beat. “Piper, being with you… nothing has ever felt so easy. Or so natural,” he said softly. “Truly, I… you say you will find me a place on the ship, but in many ways, I feel as though I have found it already.”

She gazed at him wordlessly, struck dumb by the perfect sweetness of his words. _Fenedhis_ , he was just so damned sweet and so precious to her, and how dare he say such lovely words to her right here on the deck, where anyone could witness her becoming a vulnerable mushy mess? 

She clasped his face in her hands, then launched herself onto her tiptoes and kissed him. He stumbled back slightly at her amorous assault, but a moment later his arms were around her waist as he returned her kiss.

A long, delicious moment later, she pulled away and stroked his neck. “Take me to bed, Golden Boy,” she whispered. “Captain’s orders.”

He smiled. “As my captain commands,” he murmured.

As promised, he swiftly led her to the privacy of her cabin, and the kiss he bestowed upon her was just as passionate as the one she’d given him on the deck. Minutes later, Cullen was gloriously naked on her bed, and his big callused hands were gripping her hips as she rode him hard. 

Piper tossed her head impatiently to clear her mass of hair from her face, then gasped in delight: Cullen’s panting lips had found her breast. His mouth trailed over the hardness of her nipple, and with every fervent thrust, his cock was growing deliciously harder inside of her. His breathing grew more desperate and sharp, and just as he was about to reach his climax, Piper pressed her lips to his ear. 

“ _This_ is your place, Cullen,” she breathed. “Right here beneath me with that lovely cock of yours filling me up.”

He shuddered and pressed his forehead to her neck. “Yes,” he moaned. A minute later, they were sprawled across her sheets trying to catch their breath. 

Piper smiled lazily and stroked his hair. A minute later, his hand was drifting over her belly and down toward the apex of her thighs. 

He carefully petted her clit with two fingers, and Piper arched into his touch with a gasp. As they lay tangled and twisting in her decadent Orlesian sheets, Piper’s delirious mind could summon only one thought: her beloved Golden Boy would always have a place for as long as he wanted it, and that place wasn’t just here in her bed. 

That place was in her pirate’s heart, and that’s where Piper would want him forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter tomorrow! Stay tuned!
> 
> Come hang out with us on Tumblr! I'm [Pikapeppa,](https://pikapeppa.tumblr.com/) and the inimitable Schoute is... well, [Schoute!](https://schoute.tumblr.com/) 😂


	25. Pillow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was literally just an excuse to write smut from Rynne’s POV. Babygirl needs a turn. 
> 
> It takes place the same afternoon as the previous chapter.

###  RYNNE 

Rynne stepped out of the crew’s quarters and onto the sunshine-drenched deck. She took a deep and happy breath before setting off toward the officers’ quarters.

She wasn’t due to meet Fenris for their usual sparring session for another half-hour, but she’d finished her morning lessons with Anders a little earlier than usual, and… well, quite frankly, she couldn’t wait for another half hour to see Fenris again. 

Not that she’d been away from him for long. The few hours she’d just spent in the infirmary was the only time they’d been apart since she’d gone to his cabin yesterday evening. She’d even spent the night in his quarters – not on purpose, necessarily, since she couldn’t quite recall when their blissful night of post-coital conversation and kissing had blended into sleep. But when Rynne woke up this morning, it was to find Fenris sitting up at the head of the bed and watching her with that soft and serious look on his face.

And then he smiled at her. A smile on his gorgeous face – a face that was so often creased with seriousness, or perhaps lifted slightly with a smirk if he was in a sarcastic mood, but which she’d hardly ever seen in such a restful, relaxed state of peace. And with that smile, Rynne’s sleep-hazed mind was filled with a happy sort of disbelief: this wasn’t a dream. It wasn’t one of her fondly detailed fantasies. She was in Fenris’s bed, and the look on his face couldn’t be more clear: he was happy she was there.

She smiled stupidly to herself as she made her way across the deck. The handful of crew who were milling around smiled at her as she passed them, and she threw kisses to them as she hurried along. 

“Woah! Careful there, Hawke!” 

Rynne squeaked in surprise. Varric was standing in front of her with a pile of parchment in his hands, and she’d just barely managed to avoid running straight into him. 

She clapped her hands over her mouth. “Varric, I’m so sorry!” she gasped. “How terribly rude of me, almost slamming face-first into my favourite author…” She batted her eyelashes playfully.

Varric chuckled and patted her elbow. “All right, all right, no over-the-top flattery needed. You’re forgiven for almost knocking me out.”

She widened her eyes and pressed one hand to her chest. “Me? Over-the top? I would never! You know you’re truly my favourite author.” She peered nosily at the pile of pages in his hands. “That wouldn’t happen to be a new manuscript, would it?”

He smirked. “It might be. How much would you pay to get a preview?”

She sighed dramatically. “Sadly, I haven’t any coin. But if you’ll accept a poor girl’s pleading…” 

Varric’s smirk melted into surprise. “Really? I thought Carver had left you a whole pouch of coin in that, er, care package he sent.”

“He did,” Rynne said. “But I spent it all.”

Varric’s eyebrows shot up. “You did? Seriously? On what?”

“An unwise gamble,” she said casually. It wasn’t her place to share what had happened with Fenris and Varania. And besides, it wasn’t a lie, not really. 

Varric frowned. “That was a lot of coin, Hawke. You sure you didn’t get ripped off?”

She beamed at him. “Oh Varric, are you worried about little old me?”

“A bit, yeah,” he said. “Even with that wicked scar on your head, you’ve still got this whole doe-eyed thing going on.”

She laughed. “Don’t worry. It was a fair gamble, really. And Fenris was with me, so no one was going to try any funny business.”

Varric studied her worriedly for a moment longer, then shrugged. “If you say so. Listen though, if you did want a preview, I’d be willing to give you a sneak peek. There’s a romance scene in the chapter I just drafted.”

Rynne gasped. “Wait. Are you asking me to proofread?” she said excitedly.

He shrugged again. “I might be. A second set of eyes never hurts. Daisy usually helps me out, but she just left for Afsaana.”

Rynne nibbled her lip. The offer to proofread a romance scene was very tempting, and it usually would have drawn her undivided interest. But the lure of Fenris’s cabin was far too strong. 

She squeezed Varric’s shoulder. “You’re too sweet to me. But maybe later?”

He raised his eyebrows. “Since when do _you_ turn down a chance to read smut?”

 _Since I can finally get some real smut of my own,_ she thought happily. And with that thought, a fresh rush of anticipation made her heart flip. She might be going to meet with Fenris for their routine combat training, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t practice a certain something _else_ afterwards. If he was willing, of course.

She couldn’t say that to Varric, though, much as she might want to. Rynne would happily announce her and Fenris’s fledgling relationship from the crow’s nest if she could, but Fenris was considerably more private than she.

“Since I have a training session with a certain handsome broody elf,” she said instead. “I’ll see you later!” She dropped a quick kiss on Varric’s head, then skipped off toward the officer’s quarters. A moment later, she was eagerly knocking on Fenris’s door. 

He opened the door. “Hawke,” he said. “You’re early.” 

Maker save her, he was smiling. A small smile, perhaps, but it was genuine and warm, and she couldn’t stop herself from grinning back at him like an idiot. 

He stepped back to let her in, and she tilted her head curiously as she entered his cabin. “You don’t want to go out onto the deck?” she asked. They’d only ever trained in his cabin that one time – the time he’d kissed her and then turned her down, but she wouldn’t think about that – and even then, they’d only trained in here because it was raining. 

“Not today,” he said. He lifted his left arm slightly. “I thought perhaps, with this wound…” He raised an eyebrow at her. “You asked me to treat it with care. If we remain here, you could monitor my movements more easily.”

She widened her eyes. “Wait. You’re going to follow my medical recommendations? None of your usual ‘Don’t fuss, Hawke. I have fought with worse’ manly-man talk?”

He huffed and looked away. “You speak as though I would never credit your advice.”

She laughed and took a step closer to him. “No, I don’t mean that. I’m just surprised,” she said. “You usually just keep on going even when you’re wounded. What changed your mind?”

He shrugged. “This wound is larger than the average scratch. It’s… restricting my movement.” 

Rynne’s gaze darted to his face, and her belly bloomed with excitement. His words sounded matter-of-fact, but there was a certain quirk to his eyebrows that she _really_ liked.

She fought to hide her smile and batted her eyelashes instead. “What kind of movement do you mean?” she said coyly.

He huffed again and gave her a chiding smirk. “You know what I mean.”

“I don’t, actually,” she said innocently. “Maybe you should show me.” She slid a heated gaze along the length of his body.

He shook his head wryly, then took a sudden step toward her. 

Rynne inhaled sharply, then gasped again as Fenris took another step closer. Two heartbeats later, she was crowded between his body and the wall, and the rush of excitement filling her chest was so acute that she could barely breathe. 

Fenris leaned in close to her, but not quite close enough to touch, and Rynne fought to drag some air into her lungs, but it only served to heighten her distraction: she could _smell_ him, that special heated scent of his skin, and the sudden buzz of anticipation between her legs was so preoccupying that she couldn’t think. 

He leaned even closer and brushed his lips to her ear. “Maybe _you_ should collect your wits, Hawke,” he murmured. “You came here to train, didn’t you?”

She swallowed hard and tried to breathe normally, but… for fuck’s sake, she was panting already, and he hadn’t touched her yet. “There are lots of things I need training in,” she said faintly. She arched her spine to try and brush her chest to his.

He took a small step back. “None more so than survival,” he told her, and he pulled a practice dagger from his belt and handed it to her. 

She dumbly took the dagger, then watched with a rush of disappointment as he stepped away. “You’re not serious,” she complained.

“I am,” he said. “I take your weapons training very seriously. This is a good opportunity for me as well.” 

“How?” she said plaintively.

“I’ll defend myself using only my right arm,” he said.

She raised her eyebrows. “You’re purposely handicapping yourself?”

“Yes,” he said. “As a training exercise.” He took a few steps back from her and settled into a ready stance with his left arm tucked against his side. 

She stared at him wordlessly for a moment. Her breathing was uneven and rough, and she could feel the desire pooling between her legs. Yet Fenris was just standing there as casual as you please, looking for all the world like Rynne wasn’t melting from the inside out.

But the longer she looked at him, the more she realized that he wasn’t as calm as he seemed. His expression was more intense than usual, and his fingers were moving slightly as he waited for her to move – a slight movement, almost like a nervous habit, even though he was usually stock-still until she attacked. And the heavy rise and fall of his chest… 

He wanted to test her discipline, did he? Well, two could play at that game. 

She smiled slowly at him and twirled the dagger. “Showing off, hmm? Are you trying to seduce me?”

He smirked. “Come, Hawke. Attack me.”

She slowly licked her lower lip. When his gaze fell to her mouth, she lunged at him and stabbed toward the right side of his chest.

He dodged aside and snatched her dagger-holding hand. He dragged her forward and tripped her over his foot, and a moment later, she was lying flat on her back while Fenris crouched over her with the practice dagger in hand. 

“You attacked my strong side,” he said. 

She drew a shaky breath. “Yes? And?”

He gave her a chiding look and sat back on his heels. “You know why that is wrong. You ought to attack my vulnerable points. If I was an enemy–”

“You’re not an enemy,” she said. “You’re the ridiculously handsome man whose hands I want on my body.” She stretched slowly on the threadbare carpet.

Exactly as she’d hoped, his gaze dropped to her chest as she lifted it toward him. Then he scowled. “You… you need to concentrate. If I were your enemy, you would be dead.”

She pushed herself up into a sitting position. “Good thing you’re my lover, then.”

His eyes widened for a moment. Then he rubbed his mouth, and Rynne grinned; his ears were turning pink, and his hand wasn’t quick enough to hide his smile. 

“ _Fasta vass,_ ” he muttered. “You are irrepressible.”

“Thank you!” she chirped. “What a sweet thing to say.”

He snorted, then stood up and pulled her to her feet. “We go again,” he said, and he handed her the practice dagger. “Attack my left side this time.”

She tutted. “Come now, Fenris. I can’t just do as you say. Where’s the element of surprise?”

He gave her an impatient look. “Hawke, the longer you delay–”

She lunged at his left side. 

His eyebrows shot up as he twisted away, but Rynne had already changed direction to slash at his right side instead. Fenris was forced to step hastily away from her feint, but a moment later he was in control again: when Rynne rushed him, he managed somehow to band his right arm around both her body and her arms before dragging her back against his chest. 

She breathed hard, then stopped breathing altogether: his lips were grazing her ear. “You should be trying to strike me with the back of your skull,” he murmured. 

She swallowed hard. “Are you quite insane?” she retorted breathlessly. “I’m not actually going to bash you in the face with my head. I’m rather fond of your face, you know.” 

“You should try,” he told her. “You will only improve if you make an attempt.”

“What if I try a different tactic instead?” she suggested. Abruptly she pressed her bottom back toward his crotch. 

Fenris grunted against her ear, and Rynne couldn’t decide whether the sound of his surprise or the hardness of his cock against her ass was more satisfying. Then he gently nipped her ear with his teeth.

She gasped with surprise and pleasure and almost missed his words. “This is not a tactic you need practice in,” he rasped.

She strained back toward him, then whimpered in frustration as he moved his pelvis away from her. “What’s that supposed to mean?” she said distractedly.

“You are a beautiful woman, Hawke,” he said quietly. “I have seen you use your allure to your advantage in a fight. It’s a… resourceful tactic.”

She smiled at him over her shoulder. “So you _do_ think I’m beautiful, then?” she said cheekily.

“You know I do,” he replied. 

She paused in her restless twisting. She’d asked him this frivolous question multiple times and always in jest, but he’d never answered her directly before. He’d always prevaricated in some way, throwing the question back at her or making some sardonic comment instead. He’d never openly admitted before to thinking she was beautiful. 

She stared at him over her shoulder. His face was serious and free of guile, and somehow even after everything that had transpired last night, part of her mind was still expecting him to scoff or deny the wonderful heartfelt things he’d said. To hear him telling her so openly that he found her alluring… 

A pang of affection and relief plucked at something tender in her chest. Suddenly Rynne was done with this veneer of training, and it wasn’t just her impatient libido talking; it was far more than that. She was hopelessly in love with Fenris, and she desperately wanted to drop this combat-induced distance and just _be_ with him. 

She leaned back into his chest and tilted her head back. “Kiss me, then. If I’m so appealing.”

He didn’t reply, but his breath was warm as it ghosted across her lips. She shivered happily and arched her spine to press back against him again. “Please,” she panted. “Fenris, pl–”

He kissed her suddenly, sealing her lips and stealing her words and her breath. He released her from his captive hold and slid his hand up over her torso instead, and when he curved his palm around the front her throat in a tender caress, she whimpered helplessly into his mouth. His tongue was stroking hers, and the fingers of his other hand were sliding down over the tremulous tension of her belly and unbuttoning her trousers… 

_Yes,_ she thought eagerly as his fingers slipped into her smalls. _Yes yes yes._ When his fingers slid down past her curls to dip into her cleft, it felt so fucking good that her thoughts fled her mind for a moment.

He exhaled hard against her ear, sending a ripple of delicious goosebumps down her spine. “ _Fasta vass,_ Hawke…”

“I know,” she whimpered. She knew exactly what was driving him to distraction: she was completely wet with want, so much so that she could feel it seeping through her smalls. Her only surprise was that _he_ was surprised at how aroused she was.

She turned her head to smile up at him. “You can’t really be shocked by this,” she panted. “You know how much I– _f-fuck!_ ” She broke off with a gasp. His fingers were circling the tiny bud between her legs, and the rush of pleasure was so sharp and dizzying that she lost her breath.

 _His_ breathing, on the other hand, was ragged and hot against her cheek, and Rynne couldn’t help herself: she impatiently bucked her hips toward his hand. He’d said to be patient last night, to slow down and move in time with him, but… Maker’s balls, sparring-turned-sex was one of the starring scenarios in her nightly fantasies, and to have it coming true now…

This was better than a fantasy coming to life, though, because her fantasies were soft and scattered images. This current situation was no soft and blurry moment captured by her half-dreaming mind. Everything about this moment was crystal clear: the plain wooden wall that her unseeing eyes had landed on, and the harshness of his breath against her ear, and the heat of his touch – fuck, the heat of it all: his warm fingers at her throat and between her legs and his semi-bare chest bleeding its heat through her shirt… All of it was clear and sharp and real, and that reality was far more appealing than even the most lovingly crafted daydream.

She twisted her hips fitfully and gripped his hand that was curved around her throat. He immediately released her neck and slid his palm down over her chest, and Rynne mewled with even greater impatience: she wanted his hand on her breast so badly, but she was wearing a damned bustier beneath her shirt.

He grunted in annoyance, apparently equally displeased by the barrier of her bustier. He pulled his hand free from her trousers, and Rynne mewled with distress as she turned around to face him. “Fenris, please,” she begged. “Please, please, I can’t… I need you–”

“Be patient,” he snapped, and she nearly laughed: he looked like the epitome of impatience. His chest was heaving with ragged breaths and his manhood was a visible rod in his breeches, and when he swiftly walked her back toward the bed and pushed her down, she actually did laugh. 

“Patience, you say?” she teased. “I don’t know, Fenris, it doesn’t seem like you’re being very–”

He tipped her chin up. “Hawke, tell me this. Would you rather taunt me, or would you rather I remove your clothes?”

“Remove my clothes, of course,” she blurted. “And yours too, while you’re at it.” She reached for his tucked-in tunic.

He reached for her linen shirt at the same moment. Their hands bumped together, and she laughed brightly. “Shit,” she said. “Looks like we need to–”

He cut her off with a hard kiss. His hand slid along her neck and into her hair while his other hand roughly shoved up the edge of her shirt, and Rynne gasped eagerly against his lips as his fingers burrowed beneath her shirt to pluck at the laces of her bustier.

He broke from their kiss. “Take this off,” he whispered, and he hooked his finger into the cup of her bustier.

She whimpered as his finger grazed the edge of her nipple, then dragged off her shirt and started fumbling at the laces of her bustier with clumsy fingers. By the time her shirt and bustier were off, Fenris’s breathing was even but deep, almost as though he was forcing himself to stay controlled, and when Rynne met his gaze, her own breath stalled once again: his expression was intense and hungry, and it lifted yet another dizzying rush of desire deep in her core. 

He bent over her half-naked body and took her nipple in his mouth. She gasped and arched her spine in ecstasy, and he took advantage of her lifted hips by pulling her trousers and smallclothes off. Once she was naked, he thumbed one nipple while suckling the other, and then his lips were travelling lower over her ribs, down to her navel and… and lower still…?

He placed a kiss between her legs, right in the place where the slickness of her arousal was smeared across her inner thighs, and Rynne gasped with pleasure and shock alike. She’d fantasized shamelessly about this particular act, especially after reading about it in Piper’s copies of _The Randy Dowager_ , but the actual feeling of Fenris’s gorgeous sculpted mouth between her legs was… Maker’s balls, it was far more exquisite than any of her imaginings. 

At the sound of her gasp, Fenris looked up. “Are you all right?” he asked.

“Yes,” she blurted. “Yes, I…” She broke off. Her mouth was dry with anticipation, and she swallowed hard so she could try and reassure him, but his expression was growing warier by the second.

“Do you want this?” he asked. “If not, tell me and I will stop–”

“No!” she blurted. “No, don’t – don’t stop. Of course I want this. I daydreamed about it–” She clapped her hand over her mouth. Fuck, she hadn’t meant to admit that. 

His eyebrows rose. “You dreamed about this?”

Damn it, she could feel her cheeks turning pink. But now that it was out there, well… in for a copper, in for a royal. “Not dreamed. Daydreamed,” she clarified. “As in I thought about this on purpose. Well, not just this. About, um, you and me being together and naked and, you know...” 

She trailed off. Fenris was staring at her wordlessly, and his unflinching stare somehow made her feel more exposed than her completely bare skin. 

She cleared her throat awkwardly and tried to shift away from him, but he tightened his grip on her thighs to stop her. “Where are you going?” he said.

She laughed lightly. “Well, I was considering throwing myself off the side of the Lady Luck, but–”

“Why?” he said.

“Well, because I, you know!” She waved haphazardly at him. “Unplanned confessions, you know how it is. Makes a girl feel a bit embarrassed, you know, admitting I was fantasizing about you doing, um, what you were just about to do–” 

He interrupted her rambling. “And what was that, exactly?”

She stopped and studied him carefully for a moment, then smiled. His tone was deadpan, but there was a distinctly heated smirk quirking at the corners of his lips. 

She laughed. “You terrible man. Are you teasing me?”

His smile widened. Then he dipped his head low and ran his tongue along the length of her cleft.

A breathtaking shiver of pleasure bolted from the juncture of her thighs up to her throat, and she fell back on the bed with a gasp. An exquisite minute later, Fenris spoke again. “Do you think I didn’t imagine this, as well?”

She fought to catch her breath and lifted herself onto her elbows to look at him. “Did you really?”

He gave her a fond but chiding look. “Hawke, I told you last night. The things you said to me… you were not alone in this yearning. You were just the only one brave enough to say how you felt.”

She reached down and brushed a tuft of hair away from his eyes. “You’re brave, too. Don’t act like you aren’t.”

He shrugged. “I am now, perhaps,” he said softly. He lowered his mouth between her legs again, and she fell back and twisted her fingers rapturously in his sheets as he swirled his tongue between her legs. 

The tense shiver of pressure was building between her legs, and his tongue and lips were tender but firm, and – fuck, it just felt so fucking _good_ to have his mouth between her legs, and Rynne almost wanted him to pause for a moment so this could be drawn out for longer. Alas, it was too late; the boiling rush of pleasure was too strong, and a few delirious seconds later, she was shuddering beneath him and filling his small but cozy cabin with the sound of her cries. 

Then he slid one finger inside of her, and a fresh rush of rapture forced another pleasured cry from her throat. “Fenris, _please!_ ” she sobbed.

 

He curled his finger slowly, making her jerk at the still-unfamiliar but exquisite sensation, and just when she was about to beg, he pulled his finger free. 

Disappointed by the departure of his hands, she forced her eyes open and was immediately glad that she had: he was standing at the foot of the bed and roughly pulling at his tunic.

 _Good,_ she thought eagerly; naked was how she wanted him. But with only one fully mobile arm, he couldn’t get naked fast enough. 

Rynne shoved herself upright and crawled toward the edge of the bed, then yanked at his shirt to pull it over his head. When his messy-haired head appeared once more, she lifted herself onto her knees and pushed his hair away from his face, then kissed him voraciously. 

His lips tasted like her: warmth and salt-laced flesh and something primal, and the taste of her arousal on his mouth only served to make her even more desperate than before. Without breaking their kiss, she gripped his shoulders and tugged him onto the bed, and then she was straddling his hips and running her hands carefully over the unbandaged parts of his chest, then his teeth were pressing against her shoulder as he pulled her close – yes, they were pressed close, and she was so close to having him, so fucking _close_ –

But there was a problem. In her haste to get him on the bed, she’d failed to take off his breeches. 

She whimpered and pulled at his belt, then reached down to pet the bulge of his cock. “Fenris…” 

He exhaled hard against her neck. “ _Festis bei umo canavarum,_ ” he growled. He shifted her off of his lap and slid to the edge of the bed, then brusquely started undoing his belt. 

While Fenris was wrestling with his belt, Rynne sidled up behind him and ran her hands down his scarred back, then kissed his shoulder and the back of his neck. She drew her fingers along the sides of his spine, and he shuddered. “Hawke…”

She stilled her hands. “Did I hurt you?”

“No,” he breathed. He glanced at her over his shoulder. “You can’t keep your hands to yourself, can you?”

He was smirking, and Rynne smiled back at him before smoothing her palms back up to his shoulders. She lifted herself onto her knees and nipped the tip of his ear. “No, I can’t,” she whispered. “Do you want me to?” 

“No,” he said. “It is just… strange. But in a good way.”

She smiled, but didn’t reply. She knew what he meant. It was no small thing for Fenris to allow her to see his naked skin, certainly, but for Rynne as well, seeing him without his clothes was such a precious novelty. His skin bore his history, an unwilling record of the brutality he’d survived and the strength of spirit he was constantly trying to deny, and she couldn’t help but marvel at the privilege of seeing his skin laid bare before her besotted eyes. She couldn’t help but relish in the privilege of touching his skin, this skin which had borne so much pain in such a short life, and she’d be damned if she’d relinquish the chance to touch him now even while he tried to shed his remaining clothes. 

She nibbled the juncture of his neck and shoulder, and he let out a breathy grunt. A moment later, he was standing up and pushing down his breeches, and when he turned around to face her, she scanned him hungrily from head to toe. 

He hunched his shoulders slightly and ran a hand through his hair. “You have seen me naked before.” 

“Yes, but only once,” she said. “And I was a little preoccupied at the time, what with your cock inside of me and all.” She shot him a cheeky smile. 

He smirked and tugged his ear. Then Rynne reached out and pulled him close. 

He met her eye as she pulled him onto the bed again, and this time when she settled onto his lap, she was careful and deliberate instead of hurried and brash. Without breaking from his gaze, she positioned herself over his cock and cradled his neck in her palms. 

“Can I fuck you now?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said. He slid his palms along her back and down to her hips. “Go slow, Hawke. Don’t… I don’t want you pushing yourself.”

“I won’t,” she assured him. Slowly, just as he’d asked, she began to slide down onto his length.

Immediately she understood why he’d cautioned her. His cock felt thicker from this angle and the pressure was more intense as he pressed inside of her, and she closed her eyes to _feel_ him as she lowered herself onto his lap. 

“Breathe,” he murmured. 

She exhaled tremulously. She hadn’t realized she was holding her breath. Then Fenris’s gentle fingers lifted her chin. 

She opened her eyes to find him gazing seriously at her. “Are you in pain?” he whispered. 

She shook her head. “No, not pain,” she panted. “It’s… it feels… you feel big,” she said bluntly. 

He huffed in amusement, and she let out a breathless little laugh. Then he tilted her pelvis slightly and shifted beneath her. “Is this better?” he asked.

“Yes,” she gasped. By moving her hips slightly, the angle suddenly felt easier, and Rynne experimentally rolled her hips over his. 

A bolt of pleasure coursed from her abdomen through her limbs. She gasped again, and Fenris grunted and dug his fingers into her hips. “Hawke…”

She panted for breath for a moment, then smiled at him. “Fenris, did you just teach me something?”

He smiled as well, then groaned as she rolled her hips more firmly onto his. “Do that again,” he breathed. 

Encouraged by his pleasure as much as her own, she continued to eagerly roll her hips. Then Fenris was lifting her hips with his strong tattooed hands, and now Rynne truly understood what he meant by moving _with_ him: she and Fenris were falling together in tandem now, her hips coming close to meet his every hard stroke, and as she pressed her parted lips to his and breathed in his ecstatic gasping breaths, even the rise and fall of their ribs was a perfect match.

He braced one hand on the bed and the other at the back of her neck as he thrust into her, and Rynne gripped his back and his shoulders with increasing fervour as she dropped her hips low to meet him. Every hard stroke of his cock was like a lure, drawing her pleasure from the depths of her body and the whimpering moans from her throat, and when Fenris shivered and let out a guttural cry of pleasure, Rynne _felt_ his climax in the pulsing hardness that he buried inside of her.

He rested his forehead against her neck, and his hot and heavy breaths drifted across her breast. She combed her fingers through his damp hair and down over the raised scars on his back, and for a wonderful peaceful moment, they simply sat twined together in each other’s arms. 

Eventually Fenris leaned back to look at her, and she admired the contentment in his lazy half-lidded eyes before playfully pinching his chin. “Admit it,” she teased. “The training was a ruse, wasn’t it? _This_ is why you really wanted me to come into your cabin.”

He huffed and dropped his gaze, and she grinned. “It is, isn’t it? You handsome fool!” She laughed and pinched his chin again. “Why didn’t you just proposition me? I was ready to crawl on top of you the second you opened the door.”

He shrugged and ran an idle finger along her thigh. “You came for your weapons training. I didn’t want to assume.”

She gave him a frank look. “I came for _you,_ ” she said. Then she perked up. “In more ways than one! How lovely is that?”

He snorted and pinched her waist. “You are an idiot, Hawke.”

She squeaked at his pinch. “Only for you, Fenris,” she giggled. “Only for you.” 

He chuckled softly, and Rynne smiled and ran her hands through his hair, but she couldn’t help but notice that he wasn’t quite meeting her eyes. 

She stroked his cheekbones. “What’s on your mind?” she murmured.

“Nothing,” he said quietly. “I just… am pleased you’re here. That’s all.”

She smiled. “Of course I’m here. Where else would I be?”

He finally looked at her, and Rynne’s heart swelled with tenderness: he looked so serious and so vulnerable, but he didn’t reply, and Rynne patiently stroked his neck until he took a deep breath. 

“Hawke, I wanted to tell you, I… I got something for you.”

She raised her eyebrows. “For me? Like a present?”

“Not quite,” he said slowly. “It is on loan until, um… if you want one of your own here, that is.”

She smirked at his vague description. “Well, that’s exciting and cryptic. What is it?”

“It’s…” He trailed off and glanced at the head of the bed, and Rynne followed his gaze. Half-tucked beneath his now-dishevelled cotton topsheet was not one pillow, but two: the plain cotton-covered pillow that belonged to Fenris, and a second pillow that she hadn’t noticed before – a nice cushy one covered in scarlet silk which was absolutely not Fenris’s style.

She whistled. “That’s fancy! Are you looking to redecorate?”

He scoffed. “Absolutely not. I borrowed it from Piper.”

She gave him a funny look. “Why?”

“For you, of course,” he said. He idly tugged his ear. “If you… You slept here last night. I thought, if it was to become a routine…”

He trailed off awkwardly, and Rynne stared speechlessly at him as the significance of this gesture hit her: Fenris was making accommodations for her in his cabin. He was trying to include her in his private space. Not only that, but in borrowing a cushion from Piper, he must have told Piper that he and Rynne were together, even though it had only been one day.

Her heart felt like it was going to burst. She had to swallow hard to clear the lump of emotion in her throat. “Are you asking me to stay in your cabin with you?” she breathed.

He shrugged and trailed his fingers along her thigh. “Would you want to stay?”

His tone was even and neutral. It made his uncertainty all the more obvious, and Rynne was consumed by the sudden urge to bury his uncertainty so thoroughly that it would never rise again to haunt him. 

She shifted closer to him and cradled his face in her hands. “Fenris, I fucking love you,” she said bluntly. “Of course I want to stay. Do you want me to stay?”

He took a deep breath, then met her gaze once more. “Yes,” he said. “I want you to stay.”

He’d never looked more serious, and Rynne was suddenly so happy she was afraid she might burst into tears. 

She grinned at him instead. “Then I’m staying,” she said. “Of course I’m staying. In fact, maybe I’ll stay right here on your lap and never move.” She twined her arms tightly around his neck. “I’ll just stay wrapped around you like an octopus, or – what was that huge monstrous squid that Piper fought once?”

He snorted in amusement. “A kraken. But that is just one of her tall tales.”

“Not anymore,” Rynne said brightly. She shifted closer still until her bare chest was pressed to his, then wrapped her legs around his waist. “I’m a kraken now, and I’m going to hug you with all of my limbs and never let you go.” 

He tucked his face against her shoulder and wrapped his arms around her. “Good,” he mumbled. 

She smiled and pressed her lips to his hair. As they sat snared in each other’s arms in the peaceful cocoon of Fenris’s bed, Rynne’s contented eyes landed on the two pillows on his bed – the practical white contrasted with the frivolous red – and she marvelled at how such an innocuous item could mean so much. 

By inviting her to stay in his cabin, Fenris was ceding his private space: this place that he so often used to go to be alone. Bit by bit, he was giving Rynne his affectionate words and his affectionate embrace and his space, and every bit he chose to give her was a shining piece of trust. 

She closed her eyes and breathed in the warm sleepy scent of his snowy hair. Fenris might not always be able to say the words that were in his heart, but in moments like this, Rynne didn’t need words. She had Fenris’s tight embrace, and she had his warm and easy breath against her neck. 

And snugly tucked beneath his rumpled sheets, she had a pillow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am [Pikapeppa on Tumblr,](https://pikapeppa.tumblr.com/) and our genius worldbuilder and artist is [Schoute!](https://schoute.tumblr.com/) Come hang with us if you fancy! xo


	26. Dreams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG THERE ARE TWO PIECES OF ART BY SCHOUTE THIS WEEK GUYS I'M SO EXCITED AAAAAHAKJFHLSJG!!
> 
> Also, NSFW for both pairs of babes! ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) Some of you guys might recognize part of this chapter from a Tumblr prompt post a couple weeks ago.

###  RYNNE 

> _One by one, the buttons on Lady Marielle’s extravagant bustier came undone. She breathed more easily with every loose button, and by the time the bustier fell in a rumpled pile to the floor, all she could say were three simple words: “Take me, Donnen.”_

Rynne breathlessly flipped to the next page of Varric’s manuscript, then froze as Fenris shifted beside her in the bed. He was fast asleep still, but there was a frown puckering his brow, and Rynne remained stock-still until his handsome face relaxed.

When he was still and peaceful once more, she delicately brushed a strand of snowy-white hair from his forehead. He was sleeping flat on his belly, and Rynne solicitously pulled the sheet up to cover his bare back before returning her attention to the pile of parchment in her lap. 

She was fortunate that Varric had still agreed to let her read his pages even though she’d declined his generous offer yesterday. But between her regular morning lessons with Anders and the blissful afternoon she’d spent in Fenris’s cabin alternating between sparring and sex, the current hour – which was very late indeed – was the first moment she’d found to finally sit down with Varric’s unpublished book. 

Incidentally, this was also the first time in three nights together that Rynne had actually witnessed Fenris sleeping. It seemed that he was both an early riser and a late sleeper; Rynne always seemed to fall asleep before him and to wake after he’d already had a chance to wash and dress. But it appeared that she’d finally managed to wear him out: for once he’d fallen asleep before her, leaving her with an opportunity to read some of Varric’s book. 

Her greedy eyes returned to the top of the page, and as she read, her belly started to tingle with anticipation.

> _Donnen’s eyes were wide and admiring as they scanned Marielle’s bare bosom. She waited for him to move, but the longer she waited, the more impatient she grew._
> 
> _The wait was too long, and her desires were too strong to be denied. She took a bold step forward and grasped Donnen’s immaculate coat. “Donnen, I need you to_

Fenris jerked and grunted, and Rynne twitched in surprise at his sudden movement. She looked at him, then frowned worriedly; his face was twisted into a pained-looking grimace.

He inhaled sharply through his nose and thrashed his head, then grunted once more, and Rynne carefully shifted Varric’s pages off of her lap. She reached out and placed a gentle hand on Fenris’s back. “Fenris–?”

He snapped awake and recoiled from her, and Rynne’s heart seized in her chest. His lips were twisted into a sneer, but he was wild-eyed with panic, and that panic was focused on her. 

She reached for him. “Fenris, it’s all right–” 

He flinched and shoved himself away from her. “Stay back,” he barked. “Keep your hands off of me.” 

She hastily withdrew her hand. Her heart was pounding a panicked pulse in her throat. She could tell by the unfocused look in his eyes that he was still half-asleep, but she wasn’t sure how to rouse him fully without alarming him further.

She swallowed hard to try and calm her own distress. “Fenris,” she said loudly. “Wake up.”

He flinched again and blinked, and Rynne slowly released her breath as the twisted rage in his expression faded into surprise. “Hawke?” he croaked. 

“It’s just me,” she said softly. “Are you all right?” Her heart was still pounding, making her feel slightly dizzy. She twisted her fingers together in her lap to keep them to herself; she wanted so badly to reach for him again and to settle close to him, both for her own comfort and his, but she was afraid to touch him against his will. 

“Yes,” he said. “I’m… I’m fine.” He stared at her for a moment longer, then shifted slowly onto his back and settled into his pillow. 

She eyed him apprehensively. His face was turned away from her, but the longer she watched him, the more his frown softened into a sad sort of resignation. 

She gingerly settled onto her side facing him. “Do you often have nightmares?”

His jaw tightened for a moment before he replied. “Sometimes,” he said quietly. “But it’s been some time since I was plagued by them.” 

“How long?” she asked softly. “Do you remember?”

He took a deep breath, and Rynne waited quietly until he spoke again. “When I first joined the Lady Luck,” he said. “I couldn’t… the crew’s quarters were…” He shook his head slightly. “It was a poor fit. I was a disturbance. Piper gave me this room within a week.”

A painful surge of tenderness burned the back of her eyes. She shifted closer, wishing more than ever that she could press herself against him, but before she could speak, he turned his head and met her gaze. “I’m sorry.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Sorry for what?”

“For frightening you,” he said. “I did not want to scare you.”

She shook her head. “You didn’t scare me. I was worried about _you_. You seemed… whatever you were dreaming about must have been, er, not… not good.” She trailed off lamely; as she was speaking, his expression seemed to close. 

He turned to face the ceiling once more. “You don’t need to pity me, Hawke. I do not need it.”

She gazed at him painfully. He often said this when she was trying to offer him some sort of compassion for what he’d been through, but she knew him well enough by now to know what he was really thinking. 

It wasn’t just that Fenris didn’t _want_ her sympathy. He also didn’t feel that he deserved it. 

“I don’t _pity_ you, you handsome fool,” she said. “I admire you. I think you’re strong and brave. And don’t scoff at me,” she added when he shot her an annoyed look. “That’s what I think, and you can’t change my mind.”

Then something occurred to her. He’d said the nightmares were worse when he first joined the ship, and that Piper had given him this room for himself. If he’d needed this private space to feel comfortable… 

A painful surge of guilt filled her throat. “Oh Maker,” she breathed. “Maybe that’s why.”

“Why what?” he said.

“Why you’re having nightmares,” she said sadly. “Maybe it’s because I’m here.”

He frowned. “Hawke–”

“You’re not used to sharing your sleeping space with anyone else, are you?”

His eyebrows rose, and his expression was so unguarded that Rynne knew she must be correct. 

Fenris licked his lips. “I… Are you?” he asked.

“I kind of am, actually,” she said. “Bethany and I often shared a bed, especially when we were younger. Mother tried to stop us; she said we had our own rooms and we ought to use them. But Bethany often had nightmares when she was little. If I petted her hair, she would eventually fall back asleep.” Even once Rynne and Bethany had grown up, however, they continued to have the occasional sleepover whenever Rynne could cajole her obedient younger sister to break their mother’s stupid rules. The nighttime tradition had continued right up until Bethany got sick.

The night that the scarlet fever had finally stolen Bethany’s last laboured breath, Rynne had gone to Carver’s bedroom where he was staying during his compassionate leave from the navy. And during the few nights that Carver was home, he had actually allowed her to share his bed – with complaints at first, of course, but he’d allowed it.

She shunted the painful memories aside and looked at Fenris. He was frowning still, but he looked troubled rather than angry.

“You’re used to sleeping alone,” she said softly.

He glanced at her, then sighed. “Yes,” he admitted. “I had a solitary room in Danarius’s mansion.”

“You did?” she said in surprise. Somehow she’d imagined Tevinter slaves being forced to share cramped quarters. It seemed oddly luxurious that Fenris had his own bedroom. Even the Hawke family’s paid servants had to share rooms. 

He shot her a sharp look. “Do not mistake it for a boon. It was a glorified cage for his favourite pet.”

She steadily returned his gaze. “I would never mistake anything that asshole did to you for a boon,” she said quietly.

His expression softened. “I know. I’m… I’m sorry, Hawke.” He rubbed his forehead tiredly. “I didn’t mean that.”

She nodded and picked idly at the mattress. She didn’t want to say her next words, but for Fenris’s sake, she felt like she had to. 

She swallowed hard, then forced herself to speak in a pleasant tone. “Maybe I should go back to the crew’s quarters at night, then,” she said. “That way you can get some sleep before I come bursting back into your life and wearing you out.” She wrestled her face into a suggestive smile.

His gaze darted to her face for a split second, then returned to the ceiling. “Is that what you want?” he said.

His voice was even, and Rynne’s aching heart squeezed. How long was it going to take before he understood that all she wanted was _him?_

She shifted a bit closer to him on the bed. “Of course it’s not what I want,” she said earnestly. “But I also don’t want to make you…”

She trailed off. Something else had just occurred to her – something that made her heart seize with guilt. 

She looked at him with wide eyes. “You didn’t sleep the past couple of nights while I was here, did you?”

His jaw tightened again. “Not… particularly,” he muttered.

She stared at him in a stricken silence. _That_ was why he was always awake before and after her. It wasn’t because he was an early riser who didn’t need much sleep. It was because he hadn’t really slept at all. 

Her chest was hurting – both for him and for herself. She forced herself to inhale. “Fenris, why… why didn’t you say anythi–”

“I wanted it to stop on its own, all right?” he snapped. “I didn’t want – I had hoped–” He broke off and took a deep breath, then exhaled sharply. “I didn’t want these cursed dreams to spoil anything.” He ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “These – those damned slavers. They spoil everything they ever touch. I wanted _this_ to remain unspoiled by all of that.” He gestured angrily between himself and her.

Unable to stand the distance between them, Rynne reached out and grabbed his hand. His fingers were tense and cold, and Rynne pressed his knuckles to her lips before cradling his hand close to her chest. “Nothing is spoiled, Fenris,” she said.

“I’m–” He broke off abruptly and looked up at the ceiling once more.

Her heart felt like it was breaking, but she forced herself to breathe evenly. “They didn’t ruin you,” she insisted. “There’s nothing _spoiled_ about you.”

Fenris turned his face away from her and pressed his lips together, but Rynne refused to let him hide away. She shuffled close and pressed herself firmly against him, curling her arm around his shoulders and tucking her face against his hair. 

She kissed his temple. “You’re not spoiled, all right?” she murmured. “You’re selfless and smart, you’re a fantastic teacher, you’re sarcastic and funny when the mood strikes–”

“I’m unkind,” he said suddenly. “I was unkind to you at first. You didn’t deserve that.”

“You’ve more than made up for it,” she assured him.

He shook his head, even as his hand rose to squeeze her arm. “I… I can’t read,” he said.

“Who fucking cares if you can’t read?” she exclaimed. “You’re still the second smartest man I know. After Varric, of course.” She drew back and eyed him curiously. “Do you want to learn to read?”

He shrugged silently, but he was nibbling the inside of his cheek, and Rynne watched him tenderly for a moment before speaking again. “I’ll teach you to read if you want,” she said. She kissed his forehead again. “Honestly, Fenris, anything you want, all you have to do is ask.”

He squeezed her arm and didn’t reply, but his gaze darted down to Varric’s manuscript, which was sitting at the foot of the bed in a slightly untidy pile. Rynne’s belly flipped with excitement. Would he actually let her teach him to read? Maybe allow her to return the favour for all the careful and patient weapons training he’d done with her over the past two months?

He was silent for a moment. Then he gestured vaguely at the manuscript. “What was that you were reading?”

She fought back a giddy smile. “Oh, it’s Varric’s next novel,” she said casually. “He finally started writing a sequel to _Swords and Shields_. I suspect he’s writing it just to get me off his back.” She snickered.

Fenris huffed in amusement and ran his fingers idly along her arm. “Are you enjoying it?”

“Yes,” she said brightly. “Very much. I was just about to read the scene where the main character and his leading lady make love. Or, well, I hope they do. I just started reading the bit where he’s getting her naked.” She wiggled her eyebrows salaciously.

Fenris raised an eyebrow. “I see,” he said slowly. 

She grinned at his skeptical tone, then sat up and gave him a wheedling look. “Can I read some of it to you? Maybe you’ll get a taste for romance novels yourself.”

He scoffed. “I suppose. If you insist.”

She eagerly sat up and pulled the manuscript close. A few moments later, she and Fenris were curled together against the head of the bed, and Rynne reverently smoothed her fingers over Varric’s pages before turning to look at Fenris.

“All right,” she said cheerfully. “All you’ve really missed is that the Lady Marielle is now naked from the waist up, and Donnen is staring at her.” 

Fenris sighed and rubbed a hand through his hair. “All right. Let’s hear it.”

Rynne grinned, then traced the lines with her finger as she read out loud. “ _Donnen’s eyes were wide and admiring as they scanned Marielle’s bare bosom. She waited for him to move, but the longer she waited, the more impatient she grew._ ”

Fenris snorted softly. “This Lady Marielle’s attitude sounds familiar.”

Rynne laughed and playfully pinched his earlobe. “You can’t fault her. She’s just a girl who knows exactly what she wants.” She turned back to the book and wiggled her toes excitedly before going on. “ _The wait was too long, and her desires were too strong to be denied. She took a bold step forward and grasped Donnen’s immaculate coat. ‘Donnen, I need you to–’_ ”

“Hawke,” Fenris said suddenly.

“Yes?” she said distractedly. She turned to look at him, and her heart did a little flip. The expression on his handsome face was so serious.

“Stay here. Please,” he said quietly. “Don’t go back to the crew quarters.”

Her chest squeezed with a nearly-unbearable rush of fondness. She reached up and gently stroked his chin with her thumb. “I won’t,” she promised. “If you want me to stay, I’ll stay.”

He exhaled slowly, then shifted closer and pressed his forehead to hers. “That is all I want,” he whispered.

A burn of happiness lit the back of her eyes. She took shaky little inhale and cradled his neck in her palm. Fenris gently nuzzled her nose, and Rynne giddily held her breath until he pressed his lips to hers in a soft kiss. 

She ran her palm along his bare chest and returned his kiss with every scrap of enthusiasm she could muster. A moment later, he haphazardly shifted the manuscript off of her lap before pulling her beneath his body, and for a wonderful, peaceful moment, Rynne savoured the plushness of his lips and the firm stroke of his hand as it slid along the length of her leg from her ankle to her knee and up to her hip.

She gently nipped his lower lip and enjoyed the sound of his breath catching in his throat. Then his hand was sliding beneath her loose shirt and up to trace her ribs. 

His fingers played across her puckered nipple, and Rynne broke their kiss with a fitful gasp. “Don’t you want to see what the Lady Marielle is going to do next?” she breathed.

He smiled at her – that beautiful, genuine smile that never failed to steal her breath. “I’m more interested in finding out what _you_ will do next,” he whispered. 

She beamed at him and twined her legs around his waist. A moment later, she was panting for breath as he rocked himself against her, smoothing his hardness through her softer flesh, and when she moaned with longing, he captured the sound with his heated tongue and groaned into her mouth in kind. 

Fenris cradled her neck in his palm and slowly slid inside of her, and Rynne exhaled her pleasure into his parted lips. If he wanted her to stay here in his quarters with him, that’s exactly what she would do. If he wanted her to teach him to read, that’s precisely what she would do. She would give him anything he wanted, because he’d given her everything. 

He gave her his affection and his protection and his intelligent words. He gave her bliss with the firmness of his hands and his cock and his gorgeous sculpted lips. Fenris gave her everything she had ever thought to want, and as they shifted and breathed together in the coziness of his plain cotton sheets, Rynne’s delirious thoughts distilled to one simple idea: she loved Fenris, and she would give him whatever he needed to be happy.

###  PIPER 

Piper stared blearily at her cards, then threw the nine of spades down on the table. “There,” she declared. “Take that and–”

“Wait!” Rynne bleated. She grabbed the card from the table. “We need that for the flush – I mean… oh fuck.” She clapped a hand over her mouth.

Rylen and Dorian laughed, and Cullen shook his head in mock dismay. Fenris smirked and folded his arms. “The pair of you make a terrible team. You should give up now,” he advised. “Hand over your coin and spare yourselves the humiliation of losing yet another hand.”

“Shut it, Fen,” Piper said belligerently. “You’re just jealous that your girl is on my team and not yours.” They’d been playing wicked grace for a while now, and Piper couldn’t be certain how many hands they’d played, but it was enough for the losers’ shots of rum to be making her head spin in the most delightful way.

Rynne planted her elbows on the table and batted her eyelashes at Fenris. “Yes, Fenris, I think you’re jealous that the fine Captain Mad – _hic!_ – Mad Piper has stolen me away.”

Fenris gave her a flat look. “Why would I be jealous? Cullen and I are winning.”

“No you’re not,” Varric said from the head of the table.

Fenris looked up at him in surprise. “We aren’t?”

“Nope,” Varric said. He didn’t bother to lift his eyes from the documents he was perusing. “I’ve been keeping count. Dorian and Rylen are winning. They’re three hands ahead of you.”

Fenris raised his eyebrows. “That can’t be right.”

“It is,” Cullen said tiredly. “I have to admit, Fenris, I’m somewhat disappointed. I thought you said you were skilled at this game.”

Piper, Varric and Rynne laughed at this, but Fenris lifted his chin in a dignified manner. “I _am_ skilled at this game,” he said calmly. “I am just having an unlucky night.”

“I know why your night is unlucky,” Rynne purred. “Because I’m not on your team.”

Piper sniggered and elbowed her. “You going to give him a lucky night later, you dirty bitch?” 

“Ooh, I hope so,” Rynne said. She shot Fenris a heated look.

He tugged his ear. “ _Kaffas_ , Hawke, you will make me blush.”

“You already are,” Dorian drawled. “It’s rather precious, really.” He looked pointedly at Fenris’s pink-tipped ears.

Rynne giggled, and Piper grinned at Dorian – Fenris and Rynne were rather precious, after all – then slapped her palms on the table. “All right! Enough of this,” she announced. “Where’s my winnings for this hand?”

“Piper, you didn’t win,” Cullen said patiently. “Fenris and I won this hand.”

“Actually, Commander, you didn’t,” Rylen said politely. “This hand goes to me and Dorian as well.”

Cullen stared at Rylen in surprise. “You’re joking.”

Piper and Rynne cackled more loudly than ever, and Fenris laced his fingers behind his head. “It appears that I’m not the only one who overestimated their skills at this game,” he said airily. 

Dorian smirked and flicked his cards. “Fenris, I do believe you’re supposed to shit-talk the other teams, not your own partner.”

“Ah. Of course,” Fenris said. “Dorian, Cullen and I are losing because the oil in your hair is reflecting too much lamplight into my eyes. I can hardly see my cards.”

Dorian barked out a laugh. “Is that meant to be an insult?”

“Your hair is greasy,” Fenris said bluntly. “ _There_ is your insult.”

“Ouch. I am terribly offended,” Dorian deadpanned. He scooped the coins in the middle of the table toward himself and Rylen. “Fortunately, this silver that Rylen and I are accruing will make up wonderfully for my hurt feelings.”

Piper, meanwhile, was smiling fuzzily at Cullen. When he met her gaze, he smiled back at her. “What is it?” he asked. 

“You’re drunk,” she said dreamily. 

His eyebrows rose. “Pardon?”

She lifted her chin from her fist. “You are drunk,” she said more loudly. 

He blinked. “I’m not–! Why would you say that?”

“You thought you won and you didn’t,” she said. “You’re drunk.” She propped her chin on her hands once more and smiled at him. “Drunk and handsome and muscular and… and drunk.”

His cheeks turned a charming shade of pink. “Well, that was…” He cleared his throat. “That was a small clerical error, nothing more.”

“The Captain is right,” Rylen said to Cullen. “You’re drunk.” 

Cullen frowned. “How would you know?” he said somewhat belligerently. “You have never seen me drunk.”

“Exactly,” Rylen said wisely. “The difference isn’t hard to spot. With all due respect,” he added as an afterthought.

Cullen pouted for a moment, then sighed. “Perhaps you’re right. I suppose I should slow down–”

“No!” Piper blurted. Cullen was relaxing more and more with every day he spent among her crew, but it was still difficult to get him to _really_ loosen up. Now that he was drunk enough for it to be noticeable, she didn’t want to lose momentum.

She pounded her fists on the table. “More drinking, more cards! Captain’s orders!”

Rylen gave Piper a knowing look as he started shuffling the cards. “You’re pretty deep in your cups too, Captain. Maybe Fenris is right – you should call it a day. Your losses are only going to get worse from here.”

Piper held up one hand. “Listen, did I bring any of you on my ship for your advice?”

“Yes, you did,” Fenris said.

“You really did,” Varric said. “Everyone here gives you some kind of advice.” 

“Except for me!” Rynne chirped. “I don’t have any advice.”

Piper gave her a kindly look. “Now that’s not true,” she slurred. “You gave me advice on how to put on this stupid dress.” She plucked at the peach-coloured skirt of the dress she was wearing – one of the less fussy ones that Rynne’s brother had sent. Before this card game had started, she and Rynne had been trying on each other’s clothes in Piper’s cabin. Rynne had told her this was what highborn girls did for fun sometimes, and Piper had to agree that it was rather fun. 

Once she and Rynne had had a drink or two, that was.

In retrospect, perhaps those drinks hadn’t been the wisest idea before agreeing to wicked grace with the boys.

Fenris raised an eyebrow. “What you’re saying is that Hawke’s advice is welcome, but not the rest of us.”

Piper pointed at him. “Exactly. Now where’s the next hand? Rylen, what in Mythal’s knickers is taking so long?”

Rylen chuckled and started dealing another hand. “All right, if you insist. It’ll be your loss, then.”

They continued playing cards for another undetermined number of rounds. From what Piper could tell, she and Rynne must have lost a number of times; before she was really quite aware of how it had happened or why, they were standing on the table while Rynne tried to teach her a quickstep that was all the rage in Kirkwall two years ago.

“Now, watch – _hic!_ – watch carefully,” Rynne said. She plunked her hands on Piper’s shoulders. “It’s slow, quick-quick slow, slow… oh fuck, I haven’t enough space on this table. Here, let me just...” She bent over and started gathering the fabric of her skirt in one hand.

“Rynne,” Piper said confidentially, “I have to tell you something.” 

Rynne looked at her with wide eyes. “What? What’s wrong?”

“I have no idea what’s going on,” Piper said earnestly. 

Cullen coughed out a little laugh, and Dorian rubbed his temple. “Truly, Piper, none of us have any idea what’s going on,” he drawled. 

Fenris tilted his head at Rynne. “Can I ask why you’re demonstrating on the table and not on the deck where there’s more room?”

“So you’ll watch carefully, of course,” Rynne said.

Fenris huffed. “As though we could tear our eyes away from you.”

Piper whipped around and stared at him in delight. “Woah, _Fen!_ ” she exclaimed. “That is a bold line right there!” 

Rynne fanned her pinkened cheeks. “Why, Fenris, does that mean you enjoy looking at me?”

He hunched his shoulders slightly. “I am not denying it,” he mumbled.

Piper whooped and clapped her hands, and Rynne beamed at him. “You smooth talker!” she chirped. “And in front of all these people, my my.” 

Fenris’s ears were bright red now. He stood from his chair and held out his hand to Rynne. “Come down, please,” he muttered. 

She took his hand, then tripped over her borrowed skirt as she tried to step off the table.

Fenris hastily scooped her up before she could fall, then shot Piper a dirty look – a justifiably dirty look, Piper had to admit, given that she was doubled over with laughter. 

“ _Venhedis,_ ” he muttered. “Why is it always table dancing?” 

Rynne lazily draped her arms around his neck as he turned away from the table. “Well, if it means you’re going to carry me around, I might have to dance on tables more often…”

Fenris shook his head in despair, and Piper watched fondly as he and Rynne disappeared down the stairs toward the officer’s quarters. Then she planted her fists on her hips and faced her remaining companions. “All right, you buggering bilgerats, game’s over,” she announced. She pointed at Dorian and Rylen. “You’ll remember this as the day you nearly beat Captain Piper Lavellan at a game of wicked grace.”

Cullen gave her a fondly exasperated look. “Piper, you didn’t win.”

She smiled at him, then slowly bent over and planted her hands on her knees. “Then maybe _you_ can give me a consolation prize.”

Cullen’s eyes dropped to the bodice of her dress, and his face flamed red. Dorian groaned and stood from his chair. “Rylen, we’d better take our leave before the Captain starts defiling the table.”

To Piper’s great amusement, Cullen’s face turned even redder. “No, we – we wouldn’t, not on the – Maker’s breath,” he stammered.

Rylen chuckled. “That’s a good idea, Dorian,” he said. He smirked at Piper, then followed Dorian down the stairs. 

Varric looked up from his paperwork. “Hey,” he complained as Dorian and Rylen passed him by. “What about me? You’re going to leave me here with them?”

Piper jumped off the table. “Don’t worry, Varric, we won’t torture you anymore.” She held her hand out to Cullen in prissy manner. “Master Cullen, won’t you escort me back to my bunk?”

Cullen darted Varric a quick bashful glance, then took Piper’s hand in his. “Of course, Captain.”

Piper snickered as Cullen led her to the captain’s quarters. “I’m not ‘Captain Lavellan’ right now. I’m Lady Piper Fancypants,” she told him. 

He frowned slightly. “Why?”

“Because it’s funny!” she exclaimed. She plucked at her petticoated skirt. “It’s like I’m wearing a disguise in this thing.” She looked up at him brightly. “You know, I often wear disguises when – oh, but you knew that already.” She laughed a little self-consciously. Of course Cullen knew she wore disguises; he’d arrested her more than once while she was wearing one, after all. If she was telling him stories he already knew, she must be drunker than she thought. 

Cullen smiled at her. “I remember your disguises. I’m rather fond of them, in fact.”

She gazed at him in genuine surprise. “You are?”

“I am, yes,” he said. He opened the door to her cabin and stood aside to let her pass. 

She stumbled into her cabin, then turned to Cullen with a smile. “All right then. Which disguise did you like best?”

He closed the door then turned toward her, and a little leap of anticipation jolted her belly. Cullen’s lovely brown eyes were more heated than usual, and when he strode purposefully toward her, her anticipation rose even higher.

He placed one hand on her hip and backed her against the table, and she gaped at him in delight. He was being so… _assertive._

She placed a hand on his chest. “Excuse me, Golden Boy,” she said playfully. “I asked you a questio–”

She broke off with a gasp: Cullen’s fingers were tracing along the edge of her bodice. He dipped his fingers into the bodice to graze her nipple, and before Piper could do more than whimper her approval, Cullen was kissing her. 

He stroked the inside of her mouth with his rum-soaked tongue, and Piper braced her palms on the table and pressed her chest toward his questing fingers. A moment later, Cullen broke their kiss to pant against her cheek, and Piper grinned as he pulled impatiently at the front of her dress.

“You’re really quite drunk, aren’t you?” she said.

He lifted his head to look at her. “I…” He ran a hand through his wavy hair. “Unfortunately, I am. I… should I not, er…?” His expression became apologetic, and he took a step away from her. “I – I will stop if you–”

“No,” she blurted. “Don’t you dare stop.” She grabbed his hand and pulled him close, then blatantly placed his hand over her breast. “Put your hands on me again. I want exactly what you were doing.”

Cullen stared gormlessly at her cleavage for a moment longer, and Piper watched excitedly as his guarded expression grew hungry again. A heartbeat later, he captured her lips in another kiss, then reached around behind her and began undoing the fussy column of buttons that fastened the back of her dress. 

She hastily pulled her hair aside so he could more easily reach the buttons. “Oh my, _someone_ knew exactly how to start removing this silly thing,” she purred. “Had much practice, have you?”

He shot her a chiding but distracted look. “You know I haven’t. I have simply, er…” He trailed off for a moment, and Piper tried to stop herself from laughing as his face creased with concentration.

His fingers moved steadily from the nape of her neck to the small of her back, then his big strong hands were on her shoulders. He pushed one sleeve down and dropped his lips to her bare shoulder, and Piper tilted her head dreamily as his lips moved along the line of her shoulder to her neck. A moment later, his lips brushed against her ear.

“I must confess, I have been admiring your dress all afternoon,” he murmured. “Perhaps I have been thinking about how to, er, remove it.”

His candid words and his lovely boozy breath sent a happy shiver down her spine. “So you like this disguise, then?” she said breathlessly. “This fancy rich girl disguise?”

Cullen pushed down her other sleeve, and Piper happily allowed him to peel the dress down until she was naked to the waist. A moment later, his eyes were roving over her bare chest, and the fluttering pulse between Piper’s legs was pounding more steadily with every second that he perused her body. 

Finally his eyes returned to her face. “I’d like to retract what I said before. The disguises are not nearly as attractive as your, um, your nakedness.”

She beamed at him. It was all too much: the booze and the spinning room and Cullen’s rum-induced boldness, and the way his heated gaze was drinking her in like he’d never seen anything so marvelous in his life… 

She suddenly burst into giggles, then laughed even harder as Cullen’s cheeks started turning pink. “I’m not laughing at you,” she said hastily. She reached up to stroke his precious face. “I swear, Cullen, I’m not–”

A sudden _smash_ of glass made her jump. “Fuck,” she blurted, and she and Cullen looked at the floor. 

A half-empty bottle of rum had toppled from the table to the floor. Piper turned back to Cullen with a smile, fully prepared to make some nonsensical joke about the bottle falling for him, but before she could speak a word, Cullen was kissing her voraciously.

Not just kissing her, though: his hands were pushing her dress down over her hips while he stepped close to her, close enough that her nipples were brushing against his crumpled linen shirt – no, not against his shirt, but against his lightly haired chest that was exposed by the gaping shirt – 

She whimpered into his lips and arched toward him. A moment later, he lifted her onto the table and pulled the dress down over her thighs, then threw the dress aside and placed an open-mouthed kiss on her belly. 

Piper gasped and jerked, then jerked again when Cullen abruptly ran his tongue between her legs. He sat in the chair at the head of the table and lowered his mouth between her legs again, and Piper lay back on the table and gave herself over to the feel of his lips at the apex of her thighs. Her head was swimming with booze, making the room do a lovely lazy twirl as she gazed vacantly at the ceiling, and… well, come to think of it, it felt entirely like she was swimming. But instead of the ocean’s caress on her skin, it was Cullen’s hands on her body and his patient tongue swirling between her legs, and the pleasure of his touch was swimming through her limbs and belly and building between her legs like a wicked wave… 

And then the wave crashed, sending a wonderful shock of pleasure through her body, and Piper arched her neck and grabbed mindlessly at his hands as she cried her climax to the ceiling. A moment later, Cullen was on his feet and looming over her with the most wonderfully _intentional_ look in his eye. 

He braced his palms on the table at either side of her head, and Piper wiped the evidence of her pleasure from his chin. “I need you to fuck me,” she panted. “Take this off.” She plucked at his shirt, then reached down to tug at his sash.

He started untucking his shirt, then faltered with a gasp as her fingers curved over the bulge of his cock. “P-Piper,” he begged. 

She sat up at the edge of the table and continued to stroke him through his trousers. “Take this off,” she repeated. “Take everything off and fuck me.”

His breathing was ragged now and his movements clumsy, and as he pulled his shirt over his head, he stumbled slightly.

“Cullen!” she exclaimed. She grabbed his arm and started laughing again. Fuck’s sake, he must be terribly drunk if he was being this unbalanced. 

He looked positively sheepish now, and he awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck. “Forgive me,” he said. “I – my eagerness is not quite in line with my mind at the moment…”

She stroked his neck and tried to get her laughter under control. “You’re fine, you’re fine,” she said soothingly, and she slid closer to the edge of the table. “Come on, let’s–”

“Stop,” he blurted, and he grabbed her hips to keep her on the table.

She stopped and grinned at him. “Want me on the table, do you?”

“No, that’s not – I mean, I… I would if you were – er…” He broke off and cleared his throat. “What I mean is… You can’t place your feet on the floor. You’ll cut yourself on the glass.”

She glanced fuzzily at the broken bottle. She’d entirely forgotten about the glass on the floor. 

She waved a dismissive hand. “It’s all right, my feet are tough as hardwood,” she said. “Now let’s get these trousers off of you.” She tried to slide off the table once more, but Cullen held her in place. 

“Piper, please,” he pleaded. “I would rather not see you harmed if it’s not necessary.”

She blinked at him, then smiled fiercely. “Are you trying to look after me? You don’t have to do that, you know. I’m a pirate, I can look after myself.”

“I know,” he said quickly. “I simply… I would like to keep your feet intact. I love them very much.” 

Her hint of belligerence faded instantly. It was no match for Cullen’s sweet and earnest words. She pulled him close and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Well, you might love my feet, but I love _you._ ”

His eyes widened. “I didn’t mean – I love you too, not only your feet.”

She threw her head back and laughed, then reached down and started untying his sash. “Well, good. Because I love your feet too, but mostly I love you.” She pulled his sash off and threw it aside, then started working on the buttons of his trousers with growing difficulty. How the fuck he’d undone the tiny buttons of her borrowed dress so quickly was beyond her. Was he a savant of some kind for buttons?

Then Cullen tipped her chin up, pulling her attention from his cock back to his face, and her hands fell still. His expression was so tender, and Piper’s heart thumped in her chest at the warmth in his handsome face. 

“I love you,” he said softly. “Very much.”

Her silly little heart thumped again, and she beamed at him and slid her hands up his bare chest. “I know, Cullen,” she murmured. “I love you very much, too.”

He shook his head. “You’re laughing, but I’m – I’m very serious. I love you very deeply. And I know you think I am saying it so much because I’ve had too much to drink–”

She pressed her lips together hard to quell her stupid giggling. That was exactly what she’d been thinking.

He frowned at her chidingly. “... but I am completely serious. I…” He sighed, then slid his hands into her hair. “You helped me when I thought I was beyond help. You… helped me when you didn’t need to. When it was at a cost to you. And you… everything is very different now, in a very _good_ way, and Piper, I…” 

She cut him off with a kiss. Her heart felt so full, and if he kept talking, she was afraid she’d burst into tears from the potent combination of happiness and rum. 

He twined his fingers in her hair, and she tangled her tongue with his while finally – _finally_ – wrangling his buttons undone and shoving his trousers down to his knees. A moment later, his hardness was sliding against the willing heat between her legs, and she was gasping for breath while Cullen groaned into her shoulder, and then –

“Yes,” she cried. He was inside of her, pushing himself deep to fill her up, and when his lips trailed their way from her shoulder to her neck once more, she let out an uninhibited moan. 

He nipped her neck and pumped his hips, sending a lovely ripple of pleasure through her body. “I love you,” he breathed. 

She wrapped her arm around his shoulders. “I know,” she whimpered. “I love you, too.” She curled her hips toward him to meet his cock.

He panted fitfully against her ear as he fed himself deep, and soon they were fucking in a smooth and steadily rhythm while the table creaked beneath them and the ship spun around them in a lazy swirling flow, and Cullen’s sweet and fuzzy words were pouring into her pleasure-ridden mind.

“I love you, Piper,” he whimpered. “More than I have proper words to say. I… I love you, very much, and being here on this ship with you–”

She turned her head and kissed him hard, and they fucked and breathed desperately against each other’s lips for a moment before she found the air to speak. “I love _you_ ,” she said. “I wanted you since we met and now you’re here on my ship, and Cullen, it’s… it’s like a wonderful dream, and I usually have shitty dreams but you’re – you – you’re the best kind of dream, and I–” 

He ground his hips into hers, and she broke off with a cry before finding her tongue once more. “I love you a lot,” she whimpered. “So much. So much, Cullen, I just…”

“I know,” he moaned. “I know. And Piper, I… I love you too. I never – _ah_ – I never enjoyed being on a ship, but I feel – here on your ship with you, I… Piper, I love your ship and your… everything, really, and…” He broke off and shuddered, and Piper strained and spread her legs wider as he fucked her harder still in the throes of his pleasure. His hands were hot at her nape and on her thigh, and his shoulders were sweat-laced and smooth beneath her hands, and his cock – _fenedhis,_ the smooth pressure of his cock filling her up: all of it was perfect and heated and sweet, and on top of it all, making this moment more perfect still, were his wonderful words of love as he mumbled them drunkenly into her ear.

He drew a long, fortifying breath, then sighed happily and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “I love you,” he murmured. “Truly.”

She smiled and stroked his neck and shoulder. “I know,” she whispered. “Now carry me to the bed so we can go to sleep.”

He smiled against her cheek. A moment later, he took a small step back, then bowed slightly to her. “As my Captain commands.”

She chuckled, and he fumbled with his trousers until they were half-fastened around his waist once more. He lifted her carefully from the table, and a moment later they fell onto the bed together.

Cullen rolled onto his back with a groan. “I think I may still be drunk.”

She giggled and clumsily crawled on top of him. “I’d be shocked if you weren’t, Golden Boy.” She lay down on his naked chest with a sigh and closed her eyes. 

Cullen chuckled softly. A moment later, he started stroking her hair, and Piper let out a long and satisfied sigh. She would never get enough of his lovely fingers smoothing against her scalp and combing through the madness of her hair. 

Just as she was drifting off to sleep, Cullen’s quiet voice infiltrated her half-conscious mind. “I meant what I said, Piper. Rum or no rum, I love you very dearly.”

She smiled. Without opening her eyes, she slid her arms beneath him and hugged him hard. “I love you too, Golden Boy. Very, _very_ dearly.” 

Cullen hummed a soft acknowledgment. It was a gentle, quiet sound of happiness, and it was this happy little sound that finally carried Piper’s fuzzy mind off to sleep. 

**********************

“Look away, _alhasha_. Cover your eyes.”

Feylhen’s tone was calm and even, and it only made Piper’s panic rise. She struggled against the hands that were gripping her skinny little arms, those big nasty human hands, but the more Piper tried to tear herself free and run to her papa, the harder they seemed to squeeze her. 

She stared desperately at Feylhen’s face. He was smiling at her with his cocoa-brown eyes, smiling as calmly as ever despite the noose they were looping around his neck, and Piper didn’t understand why he looked so _calm_. 

She didn’t know the word the guardsmen had used when they’d accused her papa before dragging him out of the shop, but whatever the word ‘rape’ meant, Feylhen hadn’t done it. Piper had been with him all day at the cobbler’s, and he’d been working all day long. He hadn’t done anything wrong.

The guardsmen were wrong. They were _wrong._ Papa hadn’t done anything bad. He was always telling Piper to be good and to keep her head down and not do anything mean to any humans. He would never do any ‘rape’ to any humans, whatever that bad word meant. 

She twisted and strained at the hands holding her captive. Then her captor’s vile breath drifted across her ear, accompanied by an equally vile voice. “He's getting what he deserves, the knife-eared bastard. And you'll be next.”

“No!” Piper screamed. “He didn’t do it! He didn’t do anything! Papa, _no!_ ” She writhed in the human’s grip, kicking her feet and craning her neck around to try and bite the hands clutching her arms, but to no avail. She kicked and punched and screamed, but the crowd seemed to be closing around her and pulling her deeper until she couldn’t see Feylhen’s kind brown eyes at all. 

Then, through the frothing and chattering crowd, she heard a sickening snap.

She looked up and finally found Feylhen’s eyes. They were focused on her face, but… no, they weren’t focused on her face. They weren’t focused on anything at all, because he was dead.

He was dead. Her papa was dead. He was swinging limply from the noose, and his head was at a strange angle like the head of the ragdoll he’d given her two years ago, and he was dead. 

He was dead. Papa was dead. He was dead, he was dead, her papa was dead–

Piper screamed. Or she tried to. But she couldn’t scream, because the noose was tightening around her neck. 

She scrabbled at her throat, trying to uncoil the rope that was closing off her windpipe, but there was no rope at all. There were fingers, clawlike desperate fingers and mad blue eyes, and a horrible voice was hissing in her ear. 

“The noose is too good for you,” Meredith spat. “ _I_ will be the one to deliver you to justice, make no mistake about that.”

_Fuck you,_ Piper thought, but she couldn’t say it. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t speak and she couldn’t breathe and she couldn’t save herself, she couldn’t save fucking save herself, and Papa was watching her vacantly as Meredith’s clawlike fingers strangled her to death–

“Piper.”

She woke with a gasp to find Feylhen’s kind brown eyes staring down at her.

She flinched and screamed. A pair of human hands cupped her face, and she flinched again, then froze; the hands on her face were big and strong, but they were gently stroking her cheeks, and the kind brown eyes…

She blinked hard, then released a shaky exhale. They weren’t Feylhen’s eyes at all. They were Cullen’s. 

She swallowed the horrible choking lump in her throat, then forced herself to smile at him. “Golden Boy,” she croaked. “You looking for some action so late at night? I mean, I’ll never say no, but if you fall asleep on me…” She winked at him.

His anxious expression remained, and Piper supposed she couldn’t blame him. This nightmare was the worst one she’d had in… years, actually. 

He carefully tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “You were crying,” he said softly.

She gaped at him in horror for a moment before hastily wiping her face, but Cullen took her hand in his. “There were no tears, but you were crying,” he said. “Your… your sobbing woke me.”

_Fenedhis lasa,_ she thought irritably. Cullen’s expression was soft and worried, and Piper liked the softness, but she hated the worry. What was he going to think of her? That she was some silly child with bad dreams who needed to be coddled?

She gave him a frank look. “It was a terrible dream,” she said. “I dreamt that we ran out of rum. I was running around the whole ship looking for a drink, and Dorian and Varric were there, and all I could say was ‘why’s the rum gone, why’s the rum always gone?’” 

Cullen tilted his head. “Piper…” 

Piper pressed her lips together, then sighed. She’d hoped the nightmares would become less frequent, and to some extent they had; she was having them maybe every few nights now instead of every night since the fire in Kirkwall. But they weren’t going away fast enough for her liking. Or for Cullen’s, apparently. 

She sat up and pushed her wild hair back. “Come up to the deck with me,” she said. Without waiting for his answer, she slid out of the bed.

She listened to the whisper of the silk sheets as Cullen slipped out of the bed as well. A minute later, they were both dressed and stepping out of her cabin and onto the deck. 

Piper took a deep breath. It was a warm but breezy night, and the air was deliciously salty and fresh – exactly what she needed to draw the residual fear from her mind. 

She led Cullen toward the bow of the ship. The only crew who were awake were the ones on guard duty, including Cole who was perched in his usual place in the crow’s nest. The ship was quiet and peaceful; the familiar creaking of the ropes and the gentle swish of water against the hull were a soothing lull, making this a perfect quiet moment. 

She led him over to the bench on the forecastle deck and waved gallantly for him to take a seat. “My good sir,” she said.

He gave her a chiding little smile as he sat, and Piper sat down beside him and folded her legs. “I have a story for you,” she said. “And no one has heard this one before.” 

He frowned slightly, but nodded. “All right.”

Piper took a deep breath and looked up at the pitch-black sky. “Back in Wycome, there was this little elven girl who was a complete brat. She stole the tools in her father’s shop so she could make krakens and dragons out of leather and nails, and she rubbed dirt in her hair so she would look like a mud monster. She led the other bratty children around the market in these noisy messy games until their parents complained. But for some reason, even though she was a pain in the arse, her father thought she was wonderful. He called her a wild beast, but he still thought she was wonderful.” She paused and looked at Cullen.

His face… it was so soft and sympathetic, and Piper felt a squiggle of discomfort at how pitying his face was, but she pushed it down. He’d put up with her nighttime horrors for weeks now; he deserved to hear this tale. 

“Go on,” he said softly.

She nodded, then looked up at the sky once more. “One day, when the bratty elven girl was nine years old, she was helping her father to fix a pair of shoes.” She shot Cullen a sardonic look. “He was trying to teach her the trade, you see, even though elves in Wycome don’t wear bloody shoes. Then two big, scary guardsmen came in and dragged him away.”

Cullen’s eyebrows jumped up. “What?”

She shrugged. “They came into the shop, said he’d been accused of rape, and dragged him out of the shop.” 

Cullen stared at her. “They accused him of… of rape?”

She nodded and idly started braiding a lock of hair at her left temple. “The little girl was terrified. She didn’t know what that word meant. She was only nine years old, for fuck’s sake. But her papa had been taken away, and the guardsmen didn’t care what became of some snot-nosed little knife-ear. So the bratty little girl spent two days all alone trying to find out where her papa had been taken.” She paused and took a long, slow breath through her nose. “When she finally found him, it was in the town square. They were putting a noose around his neck.”

Cullen exhaled. “Piper…” 

She shook her head roughly and pushed on. “The little girl didn’t know much, but she knew what the noose meant. She tried to get to him, but the big bad guardsmen stopped her. It was easy for them to stop her, since she was only nine. She was small and weak, and she… she couldn’t stop it.” She swallowed hard and continued braiding her hair. “His neck snapped when they hung him. Much later, years later, the little girl realized that was a mercy. But it didn’t feel like one when her papa was hanging there and – and staring at her with his empty d-dead eyes…”

Cullen tugged her close and wrapped his arms around her tightly, and Piper buried her face in his shirt. Her eyes were hot with the tears she’d been hoping not to shed, and she could feel her face getting twisted and ugly with distress, and fuck it, but she _really_ hadn’t wanted to do this–

She sobbed into Cullen’s shirt, then smushed her face harder into his shoulder to silence herself. It had obviously been a mistake coming up onto the deck. If anyone else saw her blubbering here on the bow like a baby… Well, that just wouldn’t do. She was Captain Mad Piper, for fuck’s sake. She had a reputation to uphold. 

Cullen stroked her hair, and Piper let out another muffled sob and clutched his shirt. She tried to force herself to stop crying, but the stupid tears just kept on coming, so she had no choice but to keep her face hidden against Cullen’s chest while he held her close and smoothed his hand over the madness of her hair. 

Some time later – far too long, in Piper’s opinion – she finally managed to get her breathing and her tears under control. She sniffed hard, then lifted her head slightly. “So, er… that’s the story,” she said lamely. “Not one of my most exciting, I know. I’ll come up with a better one tomorrow.”

“‘Come up with’?” Cullen said. “I thought all of your stories were true.”

She glanced up at him, then grinned; his limpid brown eyes were still soft, but he was smiling faintly at her. 

She chuckled and poked his chest. “You’re right. They are. What was I thinking?” She pulled away from him and roughly wiped her face, thankful for the darkness; if any of the crew saw her face, hopefully they would just think she was tired from drinking and fucking Cullen all night. 

Then Cullen spoke in a soft voice. “Is this what you dream about? What these nightmares have been about?”

She nodded. In truth, these dreams had haunted her with varying frequency since the day Papa had died. But Cullen didn’t need to hear that. He pitied her enough as it was. 

He was quiet for a moment, and when he spoke again, his voice was infinitely gentle. “Have they grown worse since Kirkwall? Since, er… since Meredith…?”

Piper pursed her lips. His guess was correct, but she _hated_ admitting that that bitch Meredith had gotten to her this badly. “I almost had her, Cullen,” she said in a hard tone. “If she hadn’t – it was the red lyrium, all right? If she wasn’t high on red lyrium, I would have had her.”

“I know,” Cullen said. 

She lifted her chin and went back to braiding the hair at her temple. “I don’t need anyone to help me. It was just… it was a fluke, that’s all. I would have gotten her on my own.”

Cullen gently took her hands and pulled them away from her hair. “I know, Piper,” he said gently. “I know you would.” He squeezed her hands. “You know I have nightmares too, at times. I believe I mentioned this?”

She nodded. “About the… about Ianto’s men,” she said carefully.

He nodded. “The dreams are uncommon now, for which I’m grateful. But they’re…” He paused, and Piper got the sense he was trying to find the right words before speaking again.

Eventually he looked her in the eyes. “They’re… natural, after a terrible event. Especially one where you were not in control. They’re nothing to be ashamed of.”

Piper snorted and dropped her eyes to her lap. “I’m not ashamed,” she muttered.

“You shouldn’t be,” Cullen said softly. “Having bad dreams doesn’t mean you are weak.”

She ignored the squiggle of discomfort in her belly and shot him a playful little smile. “Such a wise and handsome human. Excellent qualities for a semi-quartermaster.”

He smiled, but his smile was tinged with sadness. “Believe me, this was not always the case,” he said. “It took years before I came to realize what I am telling you now.” He stroked her cheek gently. “I don’t want to see you doubt yourself the way I did.”

“I’ve got good news for you, then,” she said pertly. “I never doubt myself, even when I should. Just ask Varric the next time I decide we’re ploughing headfirst into a storm.” She laughed. 

Cullen smiled, but his eyes were still soft with sympathy, and Piper finally sobered. “I hear you, Golden Boy,” she said quietly. “I do. I just…” She shrugged. “Look, I didn’t want to worry you, so I told you this little story so you know what’s going on. And now that you know, you don’t need to worry about me, all right?” She patted his cheek. “No need to look so serious. I adore the wrinkles you have, but I don’t want you to get more on my behalf. I’m just fine.”

He studied her for a moment longer, then nodded once. “All right. I will try not to be concerned.”

Piper smiled and rose from the bench. “Good. I wouldn’t want to have to order you not to worry.” She held out her hand to him. “Now let’s go back to bed.”

He rose and took her hand, and Piper twined her fingers with his as they made their way back to her quarters. A few minutes later, they were naked and settled back in her bed, and Piper was happily splayed across Cullen’s chest as his fingers trailed through her hair. 

She closed her eyes and enjoyed the gentle combing of his fingers. His touch was so soothing, just as soothing as his kind words had been, and Piper took a deep breath before speaking on a soft sigh.

“Thank you,” she said. 

“For what?” he asked.

“For not asking if my father did it,” she said quietly. “What they accused him of.”

Cullen’s hand went still for a moment. Then he continued stroking her hair. “It did not occur to me to ask. I… I have heard reports of the abuses of elves in Wycome. What you told me, it… it is terrible, but… unfortunately not surprising.”

Piper shifted restlessly. “That’s the justice system,” she pointed out. “In Wycome, that’s the way the law works. For the humans in charge, at least.”

A few seconds of silence ticked by. Then Cullen gently stroked the line of her jaw with his thumb. “I am so… so very sorry,” he whispered.

She nodded in silence. Her throat was swelling again, and she didn’t quite trust herself to speak. What could she say, after all? She couldn’t say it was okay, because it wasn’t. 

But at least she was free of that life. Everyone on the Lady Luck was free from the injustice and the bullshit that plagued the mainlands, and Piper would fight tooth and nail to keep it that way.

She breathed carefully and slowly for a time. Cullen continued to stroke her hair, smoothing his fingers through the chaotic wavy strands as best he could, and with every pass of his fingers, the tension left her body just a little bit more.

She sighed. “Cullen,” she whispered. 

“Yes?” he whispered back.

Piper nibbled her lip for a moment. “I, um… I meant what I said. I’ve never told anyone that story before.” She idly rubbed her thumb over his bare sternum. “Even Deshanna doesn’t… he doesn’t know all of it.”

Cullen’s fingers paused again. Then he shifted slightly beneath her so he could look her in the eye. “I’m honoured you would trust me with this,” he murmured.

“Of course I trust you,” she said easily. But as soon as the words left her lips, she realized how special they were. 

Piper trusted everyone on the Lady Luck. Much as she felt like a sap to admit it, the crew were her family, and she knew she could trust everyone here with her life, just as they trusted her to defend theirs as well. 

But Cullen… She trusted Cullen with her life, certainly, but it was more than that. She trusted him with her secrets and her stupid tears. She trusted him with the softest and most vulnerable parts of her life.

Piper trusted Cullen with her heart. 

_Damn it,_ she thought. His smile was so full of affection, and her throat was starting to feel thick again, and she really didn’t want to cry all over him for the second time in a single night. 

She cleared her throat subtly and poked his chest. “Well. If you ever tell anyone I cried, I’ll… I’ll think of some appropriate punishment. And it’ll be a bad one,” she threatened. 

He chuckled and went back to stroking her hair. “Understood, Captain. I will guard your secret with my life.”

She smiled. He was going along with her playful mood, of course, but that didn’t make his words any less true.

She settled her head on his chest once more and closed her eyes. Then, with Cullen’s easy breathing beneath her ear and his lovely strong fingers in her hair, Piper fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The new plot arc will be officially introduced in the next chapter! I think. I'm pretty sure. [strokes chin thoughtfully]
> 
> Your creator and captain is [Schoute,](https://schoute.tumblr.com/) and I, [Pikapeppa,](https://pikapeppa.tumblr.com/) am your faithful and loyal quartermaster and writer. Come hang with us on Tumblr! ❤️


	27. Silver Lining

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW. Also GUYS OMG THERE ARE TWO GORGEOUS PIECES OF ART FOR THIS CHAPTER, WE ARE FUCKING BLESSED.

  
  


###  FENRIS 

Light was filtering through Fenris’s closed eyelids. He took a deep, slow breath, and his back pressed into something warm. Some _one_ warm.

 _Crowded quarters – other slaves’ dirty bodies pressing close as they tried to sleep – stench of sweat and fear and sour vomit –_ A bolt of panic forced his eyes open. 

He scrabbled at the arm that was draped over his waist, but before he could throw it off, he realized where he was and who was pressed against him. At the same moment, she spoke in a husky, sleep-laced voice. 

“Fenris?” She shifted against his back, and he released the breath he’d been holding. It was just Hawke. It was just her arm around his waist and her lips now pressing against his scarred skin. 

He closed his eyes and breathed carefully while he waited for his heart to slow. Hawke stretched behind him, and then her hands were sliding down his back. 

Her fingers stroked the base of his spine before trailing slowly up toward his shoulder blades, and Fenris smiled. She really was incapable of keeping her hands to herself. 

He rolled over so he was facing her. “Hawke,” he murmured. 

“Top of the morning, sailor,” she said. She smiled and gently pinched his chin. 

Her eyelids were heavy with sleep, and Fenris silently studied her beautiful face. Four mornings they’d woken up together now, and this was the first one where he actually felt rested. He may have had a moment of disorientation at first, but he hadn’t yelled at her or pushed her away. 

It was better than the night before. He was getting better. 

He reached out and ran his hand over her hip. She was naked beneath the plain cotton sheet, and Fenris hooked his arm around her waist to pull her closer. 

Her smile broadened, and she pressed her palm to his bare chest. “Good morning to you, too,” she said. 

He smiled faintly at her. Her voice was a roughened early-morning purr, and her exploring fingers were moving slowly down his chest, and Fenris held his breath as the tips of her fingers trailed over his navel and below. 

She curved her palm over the bulge in his breeches. “My my, this is a very sturdy mainmast indeed.” 

He released a slow and steady breath. “I would hope any mainmast you see is sturdy,” he deadpanned. “Otherwise the ship is not seaworthy.” He flexed his hips to meet the heat of her hand.

“Hmm,” she murmured. “I wonder if the sails are tightly trimmed.” She ran her palm slowly along his shaft, lifting a slow wave of lust through his abdomen.

He raised an eyebrow. “That… that doesn’t make sense here.” Then he inhaled sharply; her fingers were creeping into the waistband of his breeches. 

She wrapped her fingers around his cock and squeezed, and his eyelids fluttered shut with pleasure. A few blissful strokes later, when Fenris could hear his own breathing through his parted lips, Hawke spoke again in a playful tone. “Well then, I hope the rigging is, um… properly rigged.” She grinned at him, then started laughing. 

He exhaled shakily, then smirked at her and pulled her hand out of his breeches. “Was this your attempt to impress me with your vocabulary?” He rolled onto his back and started unlacing his breeches.

“Something like that,” she giggled. “Is it working? Are you impressed?”

“Not at all,” he said. He pushed his breeches down and took hold of her arm. “Come here.” 

She beamed at him as she straddled his hips. “Ooh, you’re taking the helm, are you? Will you be sending me straight to the crow’s nest?”

“Shut up, Hawke,” he drawled. He pulled her hips toward him and carefully parted the curls between her legs. 

The catching of her breath lit a thrill in his already-buzzing belly. He licked his fingers, then slipped them between her legs to stroke her cleft. 

She was wet already. Fenris carefully spread the dampness over her folds, and when she was thrusting her hips to meet his hand, he moved his thumb up to stroke her swollen little bud. 

She gasped and braced her hands on his thighs. “Fenris,” she whined. She rocked her hips toward his thumb, sliding her slick heat over his shaft in the process, and it wasn’t long before his breathing was as erratic as hers. 

A little sob of pleasure escaped her throat. “Fenris, I want – can you fuck me and touch me at the same time?” she begged. “I don’t know if – can you–?”

“Yes,” he breathed. He repositioned her hips, then slowly and carefully, he pulled her down onto his length.

His breath escaped through his teeth in a pleasured hiss. She was so warm and slick as she took him deep, and when she settled herself fully on his lap, he burst out a gasp of ecstasy at the perfect tightness of her body’s embrace. 

She immediately started grinding her hips to his, but Fenris placed a bracing palm on her belly. “Be still, Hawke,” he groaned. “Stay still. Let me…” He reached between her legs once more. 

She panted fitfully as he caressed her clit, and Fenris watched avidly until she was holding her breath. Her fingers were clutching his hand that was on her belly, and he breathed slowly to control his pleasure as he watched her nearing her own, her lips parting and her face twisting with rapture as her climax surged closer–

Someone pounded on the door, and Fenris’s heart seized in alarm. 

“Fenris,” Dorian yelled. At that moment, Hawke came undone. 

She jammed her fist against her mouth to stifle her own cries, and Fenris gritted his teeth as the pulsing of her enraptured body unwittingly pushed his pleasure higher. Dorian, meanwhile, was obliviously talking outside the door. “Piper wants us in her quarters in two minutes. She says the last one to arrive will get a cockroach in their coffee. I don’t know about you, but I’m not looking for that exotic Afsaana flavour in mine.” Then, thankfully, his footsteps moved away.

 _Venhedis fasta vass,_ Fenris thought furiously. Hawke was trembling from the end of her climax, and somehow he was still hard despite his racing heart, and… _kaffas_ and curses, he had to leave for that blasted officers’ meeting. 

Hawke shifted sinuously on top of him, and he groaned. “Hawke,” he begged. “I… I can’t…”

“I know,” she breathed. “Just another minute.” Her seductive hips continued to roll against him with all the lovely rhythm of an ocean wave, and Fenris ceded to her exquisite body for a minute. Just one more minute – a glorious, heated, mind-numbing minute… 

There was another knock at the door, and this time it was accompanied by Varric’s voice. “Hey elf,” he called, “Piper is–”

“I’m on my way,” Fenris barked. Then Hawke cut him off with a hard kiss. 

She clasped his neck and moaned into his mouth, but he still heard Varric’s reply. “Heh. I thought romance made people less grumpy. Guess I’ll have to change my book.” Varric’s footsteps faded away.

Hawke broke their kiss and started laughing silently against Fenris’s cheek. He dragged in a few desperate breaths, then pinched her waist until she squeaked. “I’m pleased that one of us is amused,” he said snarkily, and he shifted her off of his lap. 

“I’m not laughing at you,” she gasped, and she fell about laughing again. “I’m just – oh, Fenris. I’m so sorry.” 

“It is not your fault,” he grunted. He pulled his breeches over his pulsing cock, then hastily grabbed a tunic from the chest in the corner and pulled it over his head as quickly as he could despite his wounded side, careful all the while not to look at Hawke’s infinitely tempting naked body sprawled across his bed. 

“Don’t forget to get some elfroot tea,” she giggled. “For the wound–” 

“Yes, I know,” he said distractedly. He strode toward the door, then briefly glanced at her before he left. She was lounging on her belly with a grin on her lips and a tuft of dark messy hair half-covering her face, and she was the most appealing thing he’d ever seen. 

“I’ll make it up to you,” she purred. 

He dragged a hand through his hair. “I will hold you to that,” he said, and he left his cabin before her bright mischievous grin could tempt him to stay. 

He stalked toward Piper’s cabin, then gave the door a cursory knock before pushing it open. He strode over to the table, noting vaguely that Merrill was also present, then bad-temperedly dropped into his usual seat across from Dorian. 

Dorian raised an eyebrow. “Someone woke up late and cranky. You shouldn’t frown so much, Fenris, you’ll give yourself wrinkles.”

Fenris glared at him. “ _Vishante kaffas._ Keep your unwanted beauty advice.” 

Dorian chuckled unrepentantly. Then Piper rapped her knuckles on the table. “Hey,” she snapped. She pointed at Dorian. “You. Be nice to the grump. And you.” She pointed at Fenris, then folded her arms. “Cheer the fuck up. And next time you want to not be disturbed, tie a kerchief on the doorknob. That’s common knowledge, Fen.”

Fenris glared at Piper instead, but she only raised an eyebrow. Dorian, meanwhile, clapped his hands. “Ah, of course! Morning glory, how splendid. It all makes sense now.”

Varric shook his head in amusement, and Fenris scowled at the table while silently cursing his burning ears. Cullen, meanwhile, cleared his throat delicately. “Should we, er, carry on with this meeting…?”

“Yes,” Piper said. She opened her arms grandly. “By my power as the grand and glorious captain aboard this here vessel, I declare this meeting of the Lady Luck’s officers officially begun!”

Dorian turned to look at her incredulously, and Varric raised an eyebrow. Cullen, meanwhile, blinked in surprise. “Is that how you usually start these meetings?”

“No,” she said breezily. She grinned at him and plopped down in her chair at the head of the table. “That was for your benefit, Golden Boy. A little pomp and circumstance to ease you into our casual ways.”

“Ah,” Cullen said. He rubbed the back of his neck. “Er, thank you, I suppose.”

Fenris grunted. “Don’t encourage her. She’ll only continue with even more terrible antics.”

Piper selected a peanut from the dish on the table and flicked it at his head. “All right, boys and girl,” she said with a gracious nod to Merrill, who was sitting next to her. “Let’s get to it. We’ve got a lot to discuss. Merrill and I have an idea, and it’s a pretty bold one. I’m going to let her take the lead in explaining it.”

Merrill smiled at Piper, then stood up and looked at them all with wide eyes. “I’ve been doing some research,” she said eagerly. “Finding books during our travels and artifacts during our trips outside of town, like the camping trip I took with Fenris and Hawke – thank you for having me on that trip, Fenris, it was very educational–”

He waved a dismissive hand. “No need for thanks. You were there to guide _us_ , as you’ll recall.”

She beamed at him, then placed her fingers delicately on the tabletop. “I think I’ve discovered something grand. Something potentially lucrative, as well, since I know it’s been some time since our last raid.” She looked at Varric.

He winked at her. “Hearing you loud and clear, Daisy.”

She smiled, then pulled a large scroll of parchment out of her apron pocket. She rolled the scroll out on the table, and Fenris instantly recognized it from their Sundermount trip.

Sure enough, Merrill began to explain its origin to them. “This is a rubbing I took from a cave in Sundermount. It’s ancient Elvhen, unfortunately, so you won’t be able to read it, but this is what I wanted to point out.” She pointed to a somewhat blurry-looking character toward the middle of the page. “This says _Vir’Tualthalan_. In Elvhen, it means ‘The Way of Renewal’.”

Dorian looked up with a grin. “You mean the Fountain of Youth.”

Merrill nodded. “That’s another term for it, yes.”

Dorian chuckled and elbowed Varric. Fenris, on the other hand, was unamused. He raised an eyebrow at her and sat back in his chair. “That is just a story. A legend told by the greedy and the idle.”

“Hey,” Piper said playfully. “Watch who you’re calling greedy and idle.”

Fenris shot her a sardonic look and folded his arms. “The Fountain of Youth is not real.”

Merrill nodded earnestly. “It may not really be a magic fountain, no. But according to the rubbings I found, there _is_ something there that was important in the times of the ancient elves.” She widened her eyes even further, as though that would convince him. “There was something there to start the legends, don’t you see? Whether it was a magical home of the gods or a temple dedicated to their worship, there was _something_ there.” She straightened and lifted her chin. “And I – Piper and I – we would like to go exploring there and find out what it is.”

Cullen stroked his chin slowly, then turned to Piper. “This is the adventure you were proposing?”

She nodded. “It is, yes. I will say outright that this is what I want to do next. But only if everyone is in agreement.” She looked directly at Fenris.

He frowned. Why was she looking at _him?_ Before he could ask, Varric spoke to Piper. “Interesting that you’re not vetoing it, then, if you want to go that badly.”

Piper snorted in amusement. “Since I’m usually such a tyrant, right?”

Varric smirked at her. “You know what I mean, Cap. If you wanted to go looking for the Fountain of Youth, you know we’d have your back. What’s different this time?”

Dorian stroked his mustache slowly. “Yes, what _is_ different this time?”

Piper raised her eyebrows at Merrill, and Merrill took a deep breath before speaking. “The Vir’Tualthalan is in the Arlathan Forest.”

Fenris instantly spotted the problem. “No,” he said.

Merrill held out a placating hand. “Fenris, before you say no–”

“I already said it,” he said. “That forest shares a border with the Imperium.”

“I know,” Merrill said hurriedly, “but the Arlathan Forest itself is a neutral zone.”

Fenris waved off her words. “It is unclaimed territory, not a neutral zone. That is not the same thing.” He could hear the hardness in his own voice, but he couldn’t help it. Merrill and Piper were proposing to sail back toward the mouth of Tevinter, and they thought he would agree to this?

“Actually,” Merrill said breathlessly, “it _is_ a neutral zone.” 

Fenris raised his eyebrows in surprise as she pulled more papers out of her apron pocket. “I looked around in the bookshop in Afsaana, and I went to the law office with Kaaras, and I found – Elgar’nan, you wouldn’t _believe_ the strange laws I found there! There was a copy of one old Kirkwall law about how many chickens are allowed to travel on a single rowboat for a distance of–”

Piper cleared her throat. “Merrill?”

Merrill tittered. “Right, yes, I’m babbling. Um, I – I found a legal document from thirty-two years ago, signed between the Tevinter Imperium and the qunari’s Arishok.” She smoothed one particular page out on the table and looked around at them all once more. “It states that the Arlathan Forest is a political neutral zone. I transcribed a copy.” She pointed at the page. “It says right here: ‘no man or qunari shall set a claim in the Forest of Arlathan, nor establish habitations for longer than two nights for urgent situations only, after which he will be forced to–’”

Dorian sighed. “All right, we get the point, legalities and so on.”

“I want to hear it,” Fenris said fiercely.

“I would too, actually,” Cullen interrupted. He smiled sheepishly at Piper, who smiled fondly back at him. 

Merrill nodded eagerly, then continued to read. “‘...after which he will be forced to vacate the territory, staking no claim and bearing no ownership over any part of the land or any items found therein. This agreement binds all men of the Tevinter Imperium and all agents of the Qun until renegotiated between the Emperor of Tevinter and the Arishok of the Qunandar.’” She stopped and looked at them expectantly. 

Fenris frowned. “That’s it?”

“Yes,” Merrill said brightly. 

Fenris frowned more deeply, and Cullen verbalized his thoughts. “That can’t be all. There is no end date to that contract.”

“Exactly,” Merrill said excitedly. “That means it’s still in effect!”

Fenris folded his arms. “If it’s undated, it might be a false document.”

Merrill shook her head. “It was verified. Kaaras witnessed it,” she said. “You can ask him if you don’t believe me.”

Fenris narrowed his eyes. Merrill knew full well that Kaaras was the one other crew member not in this room that he would trust about something like this. 

_Very strategic,_ he thought suspiciously. It seemed almost as though she’d put together this entire proposal to sway _him_ specifically.

Thankfully, Cullen was also skeptical. “Even if the document was verified, that strikes me as extremely odd that there was no end date,” he said. “I have never encountered a contract without a date for renegotiation.” He looked at Dorian. “Is that common in Tevinter?”

“No, actually,” Dorian said. “We Tevinters may sacrifice goats to the Old Gods in order to climb the social ladder over our neighbours’ sons, but we also like end dates on our contracts just like any other civilized country.”

Varric grinned at him. “You don’t actually sacrifice goats, do you?”

“No,” Dorian said casually. “Funny story, though–”

Fenris interrupted them. “So this contract states that the Arlathan Forest is a neutral zone. What is your point?”

“Don’t you see?” Merrill said brightly. “It’s a safe place. Tevinters can’t enter it!”

“Just because they are legally forbidden doesn’t mean they won’t,” Fenris retorted.

“But they _don’t_!” she exclaimed. “They don’t go there, Fenris. I looked at the historical records at the legal office, and we spoke to the friendlier tal-vashoth in the town, and everything I’ve found indicates that both the qunari and the Tevinter Imperium respect this contract.” She hugged the papers to her chest and gazed at him pleadingly. “People don’t go to the Arlathan Forest, Fenris. It’s uncharted territory. I haven’t even been able to find accurate maps of the forest. It’s… it’s marvelous.”

Cullen grimaced. “It sounds dangerous.”

“Yes, it does,” Fenris said. “Recklessly so.” He was increasingly grateful that Cullen was here. At least someone else in this room had a modicum of self-preservation. 

Piper spoke up. “Dangerous indeed. Exciting, right?” She shot Cullen a debonair grin.

“No,” Fenris said flatly. “It is just dangerous. Tevinter on one side, the qunari guarding the mouth of the canal–”

Piper leaned forward in her chair. “The qunari won’t touch us if we don’t antagonize them. They’re too busy warring with Tevinter.”

Fenris pointed accusingly at her. “I swore I would never go back to Tevinter,” he said forcefully. “That place is a cesspool of slavery and murder!”

Dorian tutted. “Ah, we’re not all bad.”

Fenris scowled at him. “ _You_ are not. Your countrymen, on the other hand–”

Merrill cut him off. “It’s not the Imperium, Fenris,” she said calmly. “It’s the Arlathan Forest. It’s completely different.”

He gazed at her in rising frustration. “How can you know that? How can you be so sure that a land directly adjacent to Tevinter is safer than Tevinter?” 

“Because it’s ours,” Merrill said insistently. “The Arlathan Forest is _ours_ , Fenris. It’s one of the ancestral homes of our people. Why do you think the Tevinters and the qunari won’t go there? There’s something there protecting it, that’s why!”

At this, Piper grimaced and tugged one of her braids, and in Fenris’s opinion, the gesture was very telling. If this was the point of the plan where even Piper was skeptical, then it was foolhardy in the extreme. 

He folded his arms and pinned Merrill with a sarcastic stare. “Ah. Of course. Elvhen magic or gods or something of the like is protecting the forest. That is your explanation?”

“That’s what I think, yes,” Merrill said firmly. “But that’s not why Piper wants to go.”

Fenris turned to Piper. “And why _do_ you want to go?” he demanded.

“Because it’s an adventure, of course,” Piper said. “A new place we’ve never been before, that possibly no one has been in decades. And if we’re being pragmatic, there’s the potential for loot, which is very high. You all know how much I love booty.” She winked at Cullen, who promptly flushed. 

Fenris gave her a chiding look, but she simply smiled in that obnoxiously confident shit-eating way of hers. Annoyed, he looked at Varric and waved at the documents on the table. “What do you think of this?”

Varric shrugged affably. “I’m just along for the ride. If the captain wants to go, and she and Daisy think it’s safe… eh, why not.”

Fenris frowned, then jerked his chin at Dorian. “And you?”

Dorian shrugged as well. “I’m as partial to booty as the next man. Or woman,” he added with a polite nod to Piper, who did a little dramatic bow from her chair.

Fenris snorted. “Of course you are.” He looked at Cullen. “ _You_ have your doubts, however.”

He sighed. “I do,” he said. He gave Piper an apologetic look. “This is… this strikes me as needlessly risky, Piper.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I will confess I have never gone somewhere uncharted before. I don’t see how we can safeguard against the risks if we don’t know what we are facing.”

She reached over and squeezed his hand. “‘Uncharted’ is just another way of saying ‘ripe for discovery’. Even Fen can admit that going to new and unknown places is part and parcel of the pirate life.” She shot Fenris a challenging look.

He shrugged bad-temperedly. On that front, she wasn’t wrong.

Cullen studied the papers on the table for another moment. Then he squeezed Piper’s fingers and nodded. “All right. If this is how things are done, then… then I am willing to try it.”

Fenris frowned. Piper released Cullen’s hand, then leaned back in her chair and kicked her dirty bare feet up on the table. “Fenris, it’s down to you. But listen: the Arlathan Forest is not Tevinter, all right? And we’ll all be going there together. Part of the ship, part of the crew.”

Her voice was brisk and businesslike, but there was a certain softness to her hazel eyes that annoyed him for some reason. He frowned at his lap and plucked at the red ribbon on his wrist, irritated at being put on the spot. 

For a few awkward seconds, no one spoke. Then there was a knock at the door. 

Piper looked up. “Come in,” she called. 

The door opened, and Fenris’s heart did a little flip. It was Hawke, and she had a cup and saucer in her hands. 

“Morning, everyone!” she chirped. “Sorry to interrupt, I’ll be in and out so quickly you won’t even realize I’m here…” She hurried over to the table, and to Fenris’s surprise, she placed the cup and saucer on the table in front of him. 

He blinked. “What–?” 

“It’s elfroot tea,” she said. “You forgot.” She winked at him. 

“Ah,” he said blankly. “I… thank you.” He picked up the cup. 

She stroked the back of his neck affectionately, and the gesture sent a shiver of contentment down his spine. Then she perked up as she looked at the table. “Oh, is this the rubbing we took from Sundermount?” she asked Merrill excitedly.

“Yes!” Merrill chirped. “We were just discussing if we’re going to go to the Vir’Tual– er, the Fountain of Youth.”

“Really?” Hawke gasped. “That was an actual option? I thought you were just telling me stories.”

“It _is_ just a story,” Fenris protested.

Merrill’s shoulders drooped slightly. “But I already told you, there must be something there that started the stories.” She sounded faintly exasperated now, and Fenris shot her an exasperated look in kind.

Then Hawke spoke up. “I would love to see an ancient elven ruin,” she said with relish. “I mean, I would love to see everything since I’ve barely seen, well, _anything,_ but can you imagine how exciting it would be to find a lost temple in the middle of the forest? Exploring an untouched forest on an epic adventure?” She clapped her hands and beamed at everyone.

Then her face fell. “Oh fuck. I’m interrupting.”

Piper folded her hands behind her head. “Technically yes, you are.”

Hawke’s cheek’s started to pinken. “Fuck. Maker’s balls. I mean – my apologies, Captain, officers, everyone.” She did a little curtsy, then looked at Fenris. “Drink that up, all right? I’ll – oh my, is that Anders calling me? Must go, very busy, organs to dissect, you know how it is…” She laughed brightly, then hurried away. 

From the corner of his eye, Fenris watched her go. Once the door was closed behind her, he sipped from his cup of elfroot tea.

Silence fell over the room again, broken only by the soft ticking of Piper’s stolen Antivan clock. Fenris drank some more of his elfroot, and when the silence was so heavy that it started to make his teeth hurt, he plonked the cup back in its saucer. 

“Fine. _Fine_ ,” he grunted. “We will go on your blasted adventure.”

Merrill whooped in delight and clapped her hands, but Fenris wasn’t finished. He pointed threateningly at Piper. “If we cross any slavers–”

“No mercy,” Piper said shortly. “That will never change, obviously.” 

He stared at her intently. “I mean it, Piper. I will not be chained again.”

Piper replaced her feet on the floor and rose from her chair. “No one who travels with me will ever be chained again,” she said seriously. “You know that.”

Her expression was hard and uncompromising, and Fenris relaxed at the sight of it. At long last, he sat back in his chair and nodded. 

Piper studied him for a moment longer, then smiled. “All right, let’s be official about it. All in favour of going to Arlathan Forest?” 

They all raised their hands, including Fenris.

Piper’s smile widened. “All against?”

Fenris sighed but didn’t raise his hand, and no one else did either.

Piper tucked her hands in her pockets and grinned. “That settles it. The Lady Luck is heading to the Arlathan Forest. We’ll leave tomorrow.”

Merrill clapped again and hugged Piper. Dorian stood up and stretched. “Excellent,” he said. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some things to put away before we set sail.”

Varric chuckled as he pushed back his own chair. “You’re still unpacking your new clothes?”

“Unpacking _and_ admiring,” Dorian corrected. “You should come and inspect my new collection, Varric. I’m quite certain you’ll be green with jealousy.”

“With nausea, maybe,” Varric drawled. “Another time. Curly and I have work to do.”

Cullen nodded agreeably. “That we do,” he said. He stood up as well, then gave Piper a small half-bow. “Thank you for the meeting, Captain.”

She grinned at him and patted his arm. “You’re welcome, Golden Boy. Loosen up next time and put your feet up on the table, why don’t you?” She kissed his cheek. 

He smiled bashfully, then left her quarters with Dorian and Varric, leaving Fenris and Piper alone. 

Fenris stood up and eyed her appraisingly. “You did that on purpose.”

She blinked. “Did what?”

Fenris gave her a very skeptical look. “You didn’t make Hawke leave right away.”

Piper casually inspected her fingernails. “It’s the Captain’s prerogative to have extra opinions in the room as I deem fit. Like Merrill’s, for instance. Or Rynne’s.” She smirked at him knowingly.

Fenris _harrumph_ ed. “You’re trying to manipulate me,” he accused, but with much less heat than he would have a couple of months ago.

Her smirk fell away, leaving her face serious once more. “I would never,” she said to him. “You were on the edge of saying yes. You just needed a last little push. Something to remind you that everything doesn't have to be shitty.” She gestured at the door. “Hawke is the silver lining to your stormcloud.”

Fenris raised his eyebrows, then snorted. “Poetic metaphor? From you? You _must_ be in love. Either that or you are drunk.”

She grinned at him, but her bronze cheeks were deepening with a telltale flush of pink. “Are you saying I’m stupid?” she quipped.

Fenris smirked at her. “I didn’t say that. You said it yourself.”

She laughed and punched his arm. “Get the fuck out, you insubordinate shithead.”

He huffed in amusement, then turned away and sauntered toward the door. Before he could leave, however, Piper called out to him. “Hey, Fen. What’s my poetic metaphor with Cullen?”

He turned and raised an eyebrow at her. “Why are you asking me?”

“Fair’s fair. I told you yours,” she said. She folded her arms and lifted her chin. “What’s mine and Cullen’s?”

Fenris tilted his head. The answers was obvious. “He’s the port to your storm,” he said.

Piper grinned. “Are you calling me a storm, then?”

“Yes,” Fenris said. “Do you disagree?”

She threw her head back and laughed. “Not at all.”

He smirked at her, then left her cabin and closed the door behind him. Then he turned and bumped into Cole. 

He jumped in alarm, then scowled. Dorian’s blasted assistant always seemed to sneak up on him. “ _Fasta vass_ ,” he muttered. “Cole–”

“Do you hear it?” Cole asked.

Fenris scowled more deeply. “Hear what?” he said suspiciously.

“The song,” Cole said dreamily. “It plays, pulls, pulling the old blood, prying open and plucking your hearts like fingers on a mandolin.” His pale blue eyes drifted slowly to Fenris’s face. “Do you hear it?”

A chill ran down Fenris’s spine, and he folded his arms defensively. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Cole nodded slowly. “You will. It’s all right. I’ll help.” He meandered down the narrow corridor to Dorian’s quarters. 

Fenris glared at his back, then made his way up to the deck. He spent the next two hours maintaining the weapons inventory and sparring with Kaaras and Rylen, and when Hawke eventually emerged from the infirmary after her lessons with Anders, he was more than eager for her company. 

She smiled and bounced over to his side, but her face fell into worry as she drew near. “Was Piper angry that I interrupted your meeting?” she asked. “I didn’t mean to start blathering like that. I’m just so excited at the thought of going somewhere new.” She gasped suddenly, and her face lit up. “Do you think I should start getting tattoos for every place I go, like Piper has? Or maybe earrings like Dorian? I could get two new piercings already for Afsaana and Rialto! But I wonder how long it would take them to heal…” 

Fenris gazed at her with a swelling heart as she talked. She was so bright and optimistic despite her own painful past. She liked to talk – _fasta vass,_ did she like to talk – but she listened just as intently, causing Fenris to tell her more than he had ever really meant to tell anyone. Her mere presence made his muscles relax, almost as though her nearness alone was as good as the stroke of her soothing hands on his skin, and… 

And Piper was right. Hawke _was_ his silver lining, the silver lining that shone on him and made him feel brighter with every day in her presence.

He swallowed hard, then placed one hand at the small of her back. “Come with me.”

Her smile grew cheeky. “Where to?” she said innocently. 

He huffed. “You know exactly where,” he grumbled. He led her back to his quarters, and a minute later they were standing in the blessed privacy of his cabin once more. 

Without giving her time to speak, he tipped her chin up with one hand and kissed her. He tenderly cradled her throat as they kissed, stroking the delicate tendon that trailed down to her collarbone. 

She grasped his wrist and pulled his hand down to cup her breast, and Fenris broke their kiss to sigh against her lips. She was wearing no bustier or breastband, and her nipple was a hard little bead against his palm, separated from his skin only by the thin fabric of her shirt… 

He rolled her nipple between his fingers, and she arched her chest. “I take it your meeting went well, then?” she gasped.

He pressed his forehead to hers and cupped her neck in his palm once more. “Hawke,” he rasped. 

“Yes?” she breathed.

 _I love you,_ he thought. _Hawke, I love you._ He breathed hard for a moment and tried to force his frozen tongue to speak. Why was it so hard to say this? Why did this truth feel like foreign words on his tongue? 

He gazed with growing frustration at her guileless coppery eyes, then kissed her hard and walked her back toward the bed. He pushed her down and pulled off her shirt, and a few rushed heartbeats later they were naked on the bed, and he was rocking against her slickness and spreading her warmth over them both. 

He clasped her precious face in his hands. Her face was eager with lust, lips flushed and eyes wide as she returned his gormless stare. When Fenris flexed his hips and slid inside of her, her fingers tensed and dug into his hips. 

She arched her neck and released a beautiful little mewl of pleasure. Surrounded by her heat and her scent and her pleasured cries in his ears, Fenris finally found his tongue. 

“I love you,” he said. 

She looked at him sharply. When he didn’t look away, a huge and beautiful smile lit her face. 

She laughed breathlessly and tightened her arms around him. “Oh Fenris, you don’t… you don’t have to say it just because I said it so soon–”

He thrust into her once more, and she broke off with a gasp that he captured with his lips. He rolled his hips toward her, and when they were moving and breathing together in a perfect rhythm that made his pleasure pulse higher with every thrust, he broke their kiss and pulled back slightly to gaze into her eyes. 

“It has nothing to do with being too soon,” he panted. “I mean what I said. I love you, Rynne.”

Her smile was like a firework of joy bursting across her face, and Fenris gently wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. He moved slowly inside of her again, watching carefully as her smile morphed into a beautiful painting of pleasure, and with her every cry and every clenching of her fingers against his back, his own pleasure rose higher, lifting and surging with every forceful thrust of his hips until it crested in a wave of ecstasy. 

He shuddered and gasped into her parted lips. “Hawke,” he moaned. “I–”

She kissed him hard, and her arms enfolded him in a tight embrace. When his body was still and relaxed once more, she kissed his cheek, then pressed her lips to his ear. 

“I love you too, Fenris,” she whispered.

Her fingers curled in a soothing scratch at the back of his neck. Fenris sighed against her throat and closed his eyes. In the wake of the meeting he’d just had and the endeavour they were about to embark on, he should be feeling anxious and tense with the dangers that would likely come their way, no matter what precautions Piper and their whole crew would take. 

But here with Hawke, he didn’t feel tense. His body was sated and replete, and his chest felt deliciously full with all that he’d confessed, and this feeling of _goodness_ and wellbeing was still so new and precious that all he wanted was to lie with Hawke and savour it.

And so he did. For the first time since Fenris had begun training her, he and Hawke took a break from their combat lessons. Instead, they lay tangled in his plain cotton sheets, and Hawke stroked his skin with her tender palms while he stroked the cries of ecstasy from her throat. And with every hour that they spent murmuring and moving together as the afternoon sunlight slid past his porthole window, Fenris’s perpetually-worried heart felt more and more at peace. 

There were risks looming ahead that couldn’t be avoided; he was certain of this. But for the first time that he could remember, he didn’t entirely mind. 

There may be clouds on the horizon, but with Hawke by his side, Fenris had a silver lining to brighten his way.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M NOT CRYING AT THE BEAUTIFUL ART, YOU ARE 
> 
> I am [Pikapeppa on Tumblr,](https://pikapeppa.tumblr.com/) and your INSANELY TALENTED ARTIST is [Schoute!](https://schoute.tumblr.com/) We will be back tomorrow with another chapter! xoxoxo


	28. Stories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW again! 
> 
> Plot? Who's that? I don't know her.
> 
> AND TWO LOVELY SKETCHES BY SCHOUTE!!!!

###  CULLEN 

Cullen smiled and sipped his beer as he listened to Merrill and Piper’s storytelling. He and a handful of the crew were in a haphazard circle on the deck and listening as Merrill and Piper took turns telling stories about the elven gods. The evening’s activities had begun as something of a lesson in elven history prior to the Lady Luck’s journey to the Arlathan Forest, but the gathering had become more and more informal as the inevitable drinks began to flow.

Merrill was giggling at some interjection Piper had made. She wiped a tear of mirth from her eye before continuing her tale. “As I was trying to say, Andruil turned Ghilan’nain into a beautiful halla – the very first halla. With her keen eyesight and her keen sense of direction, Ghilan’nain found her way home to her sisters, and there they lived happily together… until Fen’Harel found them.” The little cook’s smile grew mysterious. “But that’s another story.”

There was a murmur of interest from the crew, and Varric nodded approvingly. “Very nice cliffhanger, Daisy.” He turned to Hawke, who was sitting cross-legged beside him. “See, this is why she proofreads for me. Daisy’s got a knack for storytelling.”

Hawke sighed dramatically. “I understand, Varric. You need an ego boost, you come to me. You need an actual brain, you go to Merrill.”

Varric snorted in amusement. From across the informal circle, Anders called out to her. “Come on, Hawke, you have a brain. Maybe just not for proofreading.” 

Hawke blew him a kiss, and Fenris shifted restlessly beside her. Then Cole spoke from his position perched on the taffrail near Piper and Merrill’s heads. 

“If she was a deer, how did she sleep?” he asked.

Merrill blinked up at him. “What do you mean, Cole?”

Cole lifted his shoulders. “There are no holes for hooves in a bed. Did she stand?”

Merrill smiled. “Oh! Well, you see, Ghilan’nain was able to change from a halla to an elf and back again. And actually, that’s one of the things that drew the Dread Wolf to her. Or so the legends say,” she said enigmatically. Then she patted Piper’s shoulder. “But it’s the Captain’s turn for a story now.”

Anders groaned. “Not Piper’s turn again. Her stories are always an enormous joke.”

“Don’t forget a terrible exaggeration,” Dorian added. “Sometimes they’re a terrible exaggeration.”

Piper punched Anders in the arm. “Excuse all of you! What mutiny is this?”

Varric waved a hand. “Yeah, cut the Captain a break. Sometimes her stories are true. Like the time she outwitted a handful of qunari with a ball of twine, a handkerchief and a measuring stick.”

Cullen lowered his stein and looked at her in surprise. “Is that true?”

“Almost true,” Fenris said. “They were tal-vashoth, not qunari.”

Anders tutted. “Like that detail makes any difference to the story.”

Fenris shrugged carelessly and sipped from his bottle of wine, and Hawke waved her hands impatiently. “Come on, enough of this, I want to hear another Piper story.”

Cullen cleared his throat. “I would as well.”

“Aren’t you both just adorable,” Piper purred. She winked at Cullen from across the circle, then clapped her hands once. “All right. Here’s another story of the Dread Wolf. Once upon a time, during a very hot summer, the Dread Wolf had been walking for a three whole days and three whole nights without a drop of water. Luckily, he came upon a tavern…”

Varric sighed playfully. “Here we go.”

Hawke poked his arm. “Hush!”

Piper winked at her and continued her tale. “... but the tavern didn’t allow wolves to come inside. The Dread Wolf was so desperately in need of a beer that he came up with a plan. He found a sapling and made a bow–”

Dorian interrupted. “I thought this creature was a wolf. How did he–?”

Hawke tutted and threw a cork at him. “It’s a metaphor, obviously,” she said loudly. 

Dorian raised his eyebrows. “Is it, though? That’s not what Merrill’s stories are implying.”

Everyone hushed him loudly, and Piper grinned. “Thank you. The Captain is speaking,” she announced. “Now, the Dread Wolf made a bow and an arrow, but he had no feathers for fletching. ‘That’s all right,’ he thought, ‘it will be a slow arrow instead.’ So he stood back and took a deep breath… and he shot the slow arrow right over the tavern.”

Cullen blinked. “ _Over_ the tavern?”

Piper smiled at him. “That’s right, Golden Boy: over the tavern. He shot the slow arrow, then settled down beside the tavern to wait. Later that night, a drunken man came out of the tavern with a full stein of ale in hand. He spotted the Dread Wolf, and for one single second, the wolf’s eyes met the man’s.” She paused and looked around at everyone suspensefully, and when her hazel eyes met Cullen’s, the tiniest hint of a smile lifted the corner of her scarred lips.

A little jolt of contentment squeezed his heart. Then Piper suddenly snapped her fingers. “And _that’s_ when the slow arrow came down and struck the man dead,” she said. She folded her legs and rested her palms sagely on her knees. “The dead man’s stein of ale fell into the Dread Wolf’s lap without a single drop spilled. And that, boys and girls, is how the Dread Wolf got his drink.”

Anders clicked his tongue ruefully. “Brutal bastard, this Dread Wolf.”

Cole folded his legs up on the taffrail. “Waiting, wanting, wandering the world. Justice, not revenge, but the faces are close.”

Cullen frowned slightly at Cole’s perplexing comment, but Merrill smiled up at him. “I think I know what you mean, Cole. The Dread Wolf can be very patient when it suits him. But sometimes he just likes to do mischief for mischief’s sake.” She turned to Piper eagerly. “Is it my turn?”

“Absolutely, my lovely _lethallan_ ,” Piper said with a flourish. 

Merrill beamed at everyone. “All right. Here’s another tale of the Dread Wolf’s mischief. There once was a farmer who wished to dam a river to irrigate the crops for his village. But in the next village over, there was a fisherman who wanted to divert the river to supply fish for _his_ people…”

Cullen sipped his beer again as Merrill told her tale. He was listening to Merrill, truly he was, but he couldn’t help but gaze at Piper while he listened. The lanterns lit her complexion to an even warmer shade of its usual burnished bronze, and as he often did, Cullen marvelled at the contrast between her bight silvery hair and the deep sunkissed gold of her skin. Not to mention the fascinating pale patterns of the ink that decorated her entire back, from the dip at the base of her spine up to the delicate nape of her neck… 

Hawke suddenly plopped herself down between him and Fenris, and he jolted in startlement. 

“Cullen!” Hawke exclaimed. “Don’t you love–”

He held up one hand and darted a look at Merrill, who was still animatedly telling her story. “Quietly please, Hawke,” he murmured.

She winced. “Shit. You’re right. Sorry.” She lowered her voice. “Don’t you love it here on the Lady Luck?”

On Hawke’s other side, Fenris smirked, and Cullen forced himself not to laugh at her tipsiness. “Yes, I do,” he said politely. “I’m glad to see that you’re feeling at home here, as well. I was concerned at first.”

She tilted her head. “Why? Because I’m the precious pampered Belle of Kirkwall?”

He blinked in startlement. It was still something of a shock at times to hear Hawke speaking in such a blunt manner. He was still far more accustomed to her immaculate manners than her brashness. “Yes, actually,” he admitted. “I had assumed it would be a difficult transition for you. Navy life was a difficult transition for me, and I was prepared for it.”

Hawke shrugged and stretched her legs out. “Not really. I love Merrill’s cooking, and the dried rations aren’t so bad. I love being Anders’ assistant, and the crew’s hammocks are quite comfortable! Though Fenris’s bed is even nicer.” She turned and winked at Fenris, who huffed in amusement and sipped from his bottle of wine before offering it to her. 

She took the bottle and took a gulp, then turned back to Cullen once more. “Besides, desperate times call for desperate measures. If you get a chance to start a new life, you don’t turn that down. As you know,” she added with a friendly squeeze to his arm.

Cullen smiled. “That is true,” he said, with a fond glance at Piper. 

Then he suddenly realized something odd. He turned back to Hawke with a small frown. “Hawke, it occurs to me that I never did learn why you left Kirkwall,” he said. He knew that her family was stained by a bit of scandal, what with Leandra Amell’s marriage to the lower-status Malcolm Hawke. But the Hawkes were one of the more well-off families in Hightown. Cullen had tried to avoid the petty gossip as much as possible, but he’d always been under the impression that the Hawke family was content. Or stable, at the very least.

Hawke’s eyes widened. “Oh Maker, I didn’t tell you, did I? Well, you certainly heard about my engagement to Duke Prosper.”

Fenris shifted slightly beside her, and Cullen glanced at him apprehensively before replying. “I was aware, yes,” he said. “It sounded like a prosperous match.” His eyes widened in horror as he realized what he’d said. “Er, no pun intended,” he said hastily.

She grinned. “Too bad. It would have been funnier if it was. But yes, the match would have been prosperous for my mother. Not for me, though.” She gave him an appraising look. “I don’t suppose you know of his reputation?”

Cullen frowned slightly. “Reputation?”

Hawke studied him for a moment longer, then folded her legs. “Duke Prosper has beaten and raped more than one of the female servants in his household,” she said baldly. 

A jolt of horror stopped his breath for a moment. He stared at her flat expression in horror. “Maker’s breath,” he finally stammered. “I… I didn’t know.”

“Most men don’t,” she said quietly. “Most people didn’t, actually, unless they were servants as well. Carver didn’t know, for example. He was just as shocked as you when I told him.” She gave Cullen a kindly look. “It’s not your fault. The good Duke hides it well.”

 _Did your mother know?_ Cullen wondered. It was on the tip of his tongue to ask, but something about Hawke’s neutral expression – combined with the scowl on Fenris’s face – told him everything he needed to know.

He licked his lips nervously. “I understand why you wanted to leave,” he said carefully. “How did it come to pass? Your decision to, er…” He faltered as he tried to find the appropriate word. Before this, he would have said she had run away. But now, knowing the context… 

“How did I escape?” she said. She chuckled. “Honestly, it was almost a whim. A heartfelt whim, but still a whim. I wrote a shameless letter to Piper asking for her help, and one of my friends – er, one of our servants – she took it to Lowtown for me. Then I just waited and hoped Piper would receive the letter and take pity on me before I was married off.”

Cullen nodded slowly. “Piper did mention that she helped you to… to escape.”

“She and Fenris, yes,” Hawke confirmed. She chuckled and shook her head. “It was madness on their part, really. They didn’t even know why I wanted to escape; I didn’t want to put it in the letter in case someone got snoopy and read it. And Piper had only met me… what, twice? But she and Fenris came anyway.” She smiled at Fenris. 

Fenris shook his head. “Piper deserves the credit for your rescue, not I. She refused to leave without you. I–” 

“Don’t,” Hawke said firmly, and she took his hand. “You helped me to escape. That’s what matters.”

Cullen, meanwhile, was preoccupied by Piper’s role in Hawke’s escape. At the time that Piper had gotten Hawke out of Kirkwall, her capture would have meant her death, and Cullen hadn’t been present in Kirkwall to prevent it. Piper had risked her life to help a woman she barely knew, even at a risk to her own safety. 

But that was Piper. Her sense of right and wrong was very clear, as was her tendency to be both reckless and selfless in equal parts, and Cullen adored her for it, even as he worried about her.

He looked at her again from across the informal circle of crewmates. She was listening to Merrill’s story with a soft smile on her lips, and Cullen studied the scars on her face with a painful sort of fondness. There was the jagged slash that bisected her left eyebrow and ran just below her eye, and the scar on her left earlobe as well as the shallow slash that ran over her left hipbone: all testament to her haphazard weapons training and her tendency to ignore her left side, just as she tended to ignore the possible risks to her own life. She wouldn’t do anything to risk the lives of her crew without their wholehearted consent, but her own life…

“She is something, isn’t she?” Hawke said softly.

Cullen glanced at her distractedly. “Pardon me?”

“Piper,” Hawke said. “She’s wonderful, isn’t she? I’ve never met anyone like her before.”

Cullen swallowed hard. Hawke was wearing a knowing little smile, and he could feel his cheeks turning pink in response. “Neither have I,” he confessed. “Every pirate I had ever met before her was… a monster.”

Hawke’s eyebrows rose in sympathy, but Cullen shook his head. “It’s not worth speaking of,” he said. “Regardless, Piper was… from the moment we met, she was nothing like any pirate I had met before.” He rubbed his chin slowly. “I was unwilling to admit it to myself, but… I always knew she was more than just a pirate.” And now, more than a year after they had first met, Piper was still more than he’d ever imagined she would be. She was more than just a beautiful troublemaker who appeared once a month to give him hassles and stories. She was more than a mischievous criminal with a courageous heart. 

She was the woman who offered him help with no expectation of anything in return. She was the woman that Cullen trusted with his history and his heart, and who gave him those parts of herself in turn. Piper was the best thing in his life, the catalyst who had led him from a static life of routine to a more chaotic but _much_ more joy-filled life that he would never otherwise have seen.

Hawke was beaming at him wordlessly, and Cullen bashfully ducked his head. Neither he nor Hawke had spoken for a few long moments, but he couldn’t help but feel that she understood exactly what he felt. 

She chuckled and stretched her legs out once more. “Who would have thought the Belle of Kirkwall and the Commander of the Kirkwall Navy would find love on a pirate ship of all places?”

Cullen smiled at her. “Who indeed?”

Hawke beamed at him, then nestled her head against Fenris’s shoulder. Then Piper’s loud voice pulled his attention. 

“All right, one more,” she said. She was sitting up on her knees, and she had a very mischievous look on her face. 

“Now this is a good one,” she said. “This is about a time that _I_ faced the Dread Wolf myself.”

Cullen hid his smile in his stein,and Anders scoffed. “This ought to be good,” he said.

Piper grinned and punched him again. “Not only is it a good one, but it’s true. Just you wait.” She looked around at everyone. “One day when I was small, I was walking through the market when I felt a shadow following me.” Her face became serious as she continued her tale. “It was a large shadow with a very quiet whispering voice, but I couldn’t tell what the voice was saying. I turned around, but the shadow was gone.” She took a sip of beer, then continued in a low and somber voice. “This went on for two more days. The shadow would follow me with its silent steps, and every time I turned, it was gone. On the third day, however, I turned just in time to catch a glimpse of my shadow. It was a huge black wolf with glowing red eyes and slavering fangs.”

“The Dread Wolf!” Merrill exclaimed.

“Exactly,” Piper said. “The Dread Wolf had caught my scent. I knew right then and there that I had to make a trap to catch him. So I set up a crate propped up by a stick, and I caught a rat and roasted it, and I put the roasted rat in the trap and waited for the Dread Wolf to come.”

“Wait,” Anders protested. “Seriously? That’s what you used to lure the ancient elven god of mischief who kills men for beer and screws over entire villages? A roasted rat under a propped-up crate?”

Varric chuckled. “It’s so implausible, it must be true.”

Piper graced them all with an enigmatic smile. “Regardless of what our dear skeptical doctor thinks, that’s what I did. And sure enough, the Dread Wolf drew near.” She leaned forward and widened her eyes. “He was terrifying up close, let me tell you. His fur was dark and matted, and his eyes were bright with rage. He took one sniff of the perfectly roasted rat and stepped into the trap.” She clapped her hands sharply, making Hawke and Merrill jump in alarm. “The crate came down with a crash, and I had caught the Dread Wolf!”

Dorian raised his chalice of wine to her. “ _Benefaris_. Well done, Captain.”

She held up a cautionary hand. “Hold on. The tale’s not yet done.” She leaned forward again and looked at them all with wide eyes. “I crept close to the trap and lifted the corner of the crate. The roasted rat was gone, and so was the Dread Wolf.”

Merrill shook her head wryly. “Oh, Piper. You should have known the Dread Wolf couldn’t be caught that easily.”

Piper shrugged and chuckled. “I know. I should have listened better to Deshanna’s stories. But sometimes, on very quiet nights when I close my eyes, I can still hear the Dread Wolf’s whispering voice.” She closed her eyes and held up a finger as thought she was listening to a voice that none of them could hear. 

A tense moment later, Hawke leaned toward her. “What does he say?” she asked eagerly. 

Piper was silent for another moment. Then she lowered her finger and opened her eyes. “He says…” She paused for a moment, then smiled. “‘I need a fucking stein of ale’.”

Everyone exploded into laughter and jeering, and Hawke and Dorian threw peanuts and corks at her. Piper laughed, then stood up and bowed. “All right, all right, don’t throw corks, just throw coin.” 

Dorian and Anders playfully booed her, and she let out another lovely rolling laugh. “On this note, I’ll turn the storytelling over to our resident author,” she said, and she bowed ostentatiously to Varric. 

Varric nodded graciously. “My pleasure, Captain. Now, I don’t have any ancient elf stories, but I’ve got an amusing story about this one over here.” He jerked a thumb at Hawke.

Hawke rested her fingers delicately on her chest and batted her eyelashes. “Who, me? Oh Varric, you shouldn’t tell a lady’s secret tales.”

Fenris snorted. “You aren’t a lady anymore. Your secret tales are fair game now.”

She laughed and draped her arms around his neck. “Right as always, Fenris. All right, Varric, slander away.”

Fenris smirked, and Varric launched into a story about Hawke hiding out in his book shop back before he had joined Piper’s crew. As Varric spoke, however, Piper was sidling around to Cullen’s side. 

She held out one hand to him as he drew near. “Come on, Golden Boy,” she murmured. “I have a story just for you.”

He eagerly reached for her hand, but he couldn’t help but glance guiltily at the assembled crew as he rose to his feet. “You don’t think the others will mind?” he murmured. 

“Not at all,” she said. “Come on.” She twined her fingers with his, and they began a leisurely stroll toward her quarters. “Remember how I told you I’d come up with a better story for you?” 

He gently squeezed her hand. The ‘story’ she’d told him – of her father’s death – was still on his mind. “Yes, of course,” he said. “But you don’t owe me any stories, Piper. There is no obligation.”

She shrugged cheerfully. “I know. But this is a good one.” 

He looked down at her. Her hazel eyes were twinkling, and her lips were curled with mischief once more. 

Then she launched into her tale. “There once was an elven girl who was the captain of a ship. She had dirty feet and a back covered with tattoos, and instead of a brain, she had a huge pile of silver hair that threatened to swallow anyone who came too close.”

Cullen chuckled. “Now Piper, that’s hardly a fair description of yourself–”

“Hush now, the Captain is speaking,” she announced. She pushed open the door to her quarters and ushered Cullen inside.

He entered her cabin, and she continued her story as she closed the door. “One day, the elven captain came to Kirkwall for an errand with her dwarven quartermaster. While she was in Kirkwall, she decided to take a little stroll up to the Hightown market. And it turned out to be the best idea she ever had, because who did she meet in the Hightown market but the Kirkwall Navy’s most handsome commander?”

Cullen ruefully rubbed the back of his neck. He knew what she was telling now: the story of the first time they’d met. 

“Maker have mercy on the commander,” he said jokingly.

She laughed and poked his chest. “Now, this handsome commander had a very stern frown on his face, and the elven captain almost had him pegged as another navy asshole.” He scoffed, and she grinned at him before going on. “But while she moved through the market, she watched him doing his patrol, and she noticed that he wasn’t hassling anyone. He wasn’t trying to provoke anyone to get them into trouble. He was just… observing. Just keeping an eye out to make sure everyone was safe.” 

Cullen looked at her in surprise. He didn’t know that she’d noticed him before they’d actually met. 

“You were watching me?” he asked.

Piper quirked an eyebrow as she approached him. “How could I – I mean, how could _she_ not? The commander was so handsome, with a lovely strong chin and perfect hair that was more golden than the sun. But the longer she watched him, the more she noticed that he seemed to be not only a handsome human, but a fair one.” She reached up and stroked his cheek, then pushed him down to sit at the edge of the bed. 

An instinctive jolt of interest stirred in his groin, but Piper turned away from him and started slowly pacing around the ornately carved meeting table. “So the elven captain started looking around at the fancy Hightown wares,” she said. “The shopkeepers sneered at her and ignored her, but this was what she wanted: when a greengrocer was busy ignoring her, she stole three sachets of almonds and a loaf of fresh bread from his stall.”

Cullen ruefully shook his head. He still remembered the ruckus that the greengrocer had made. He’d been so dramatic that Cullen had initially thought Piper had attacked him. 

He gave Piper a chiding look. “It was a foolish move,” he said sternly.

She smirked, then continued to speak as she wandered around the meeting table. “The elven captain ran away with her almonds and bread, and the commander pursued her. But the commander had been doing quite a bit of desk duty–”

Cullen folded his arms. “I was _not_ out of shape. You are very quick.”

She barked out a laugh. “All right, fine. The elven captain was so fast and clever that she got away from the commander for a little while. Once he caught up to her, though, he saw her giving the almonds and the bread to some dirty little elven kids who didn’t have any parents.” She came to a stop beside the table and met Cullen’s eyes, and the seriousness and warmth of her expression made his breath catch.

“She knew that the commander saw her,” Piper said softly. “But he let her give the children the stolen food, and he let the children run away. And he didn’t move to arrest the elven captain for theft.” She tilted her head.

Cullen swallowed hard. Her expression was very tender and curious, and Cullen wasn’t sure what to say. He still remembered his surprise and his uncertainty as he’d watched this wild-haired elven woman giving stolen food to a handful of orphans. He had genuinely never encountered anyone doing anything like this before – committing a risky crime for a selfless reason. He’d been so stunned that he’d simply watched as the children ran away.

He gazed wordlessly at Piper. A few heartbeats later, a slow smile lifted her lips.

She sauntered toward him. “The elven captain walked up to the commander, and saucy bitch that she was, she ran her finger down his chest.” Piper stopped in front of him, then trailed her finger along the length of his sternum.

A flush of warmth ran down his throat, and he swallowed hard. Then Piper sidled closer to him until she was standing between his legs. “The commander’s face turned red – yes, just like that.” She let out a throaty laugh as Cullen’s blasted cheeks started to warm. “And the elven captain said–”

“I remember what you said,” Cullen blurted. 

She smiled at him. “Oh yes? What did I say?”

He took a deep breath. “You said, ‘you’ll remember this as the day you almost caught Captain Piper Lavellan.’”

Her smile widened. She slowly traced one finger along the line of his jaw. “And what did I call you?” she murmured.

“You…” He cleared his throat. “You called me Golden Boy.”

Piper studied him with that warm and enigmatic smile, and Cullen just stared at her. Her expression was so knowing and so sly, and the way she was watching him was making him feel… well, his heart was thrumming in his throat, and he couldn’t decide if he was excited or inexplicably nervous. Or some tantalizing combination of both. 

She tilted his chin up. “And then you let me go,” she said thoughtfully. 

“I… I did, yes,” he stammered.

“Why?”

He nervously licked his lips. “What do you mean?”

She tilted her head curiously. “Why did you let me go? You had never let a criminal go before, had you?”

He shook his head. “No, I hadn’t.”

“So why me?” Her fingers left his jaw to slide along his temple through his hair, and he tried to ignore how good it felt as he scrambled for a reply. 

“It… I was not certain how to define the nature of the crime, given the… intent,” he finally said. 

Her hand returned to gently stroke his cheek. “And that’s how I knew you really were a Golden Boy,” she murmured.

He didn’t know what to say to that. His heart was pounding in his throat and his ears and – Maker save him, between his legs as well – and her sly and knowing smile was soft and tender now.

Then, to Cullen’s disappointment, she dropped her hand and stepped away from him. 

She started to pace again in a slow and aimless way. “Now this is a part of the story you don’t know,” she said. “The elven captain ran off and left the Golden Boy behind, but he stayed on her mind when she returned to her ship – which, by the way, was the finest ship in all of Thedas.”

Cullen released a slow breath and smiled. “Of course.” 

She shot him a quick grin. Then, as she continued talking, she started to untuck her loose linen shirt from her breeches. 

Cullen straightened with anticipation, but Piper was still talking in that low, calm, storytelling sort of voice. “The elven captain knew she should be doing work, like writing in the captain’s log or sparring with the crew or patching her clothes. But all she could think about was that handsome Golden Boy.” She pulled her shirt over her head and tossed it on the table. 

She slowly pushed her hair back, and Cullen stared gormlessly at her pert nipples and the tattoos that framed her breasts. Then she was sashaying slowly toward him, and her half-nude body was competing for his attention with her husky voice. 

“She kept thinking about his lips,” Piper said. “How pouty they were while he was scowling, and how she’d like to lick the scar on his upper lip.”

Cullen’s eyes flew to her face. Her expression was one of unequivocal intent, and the excitement that was simmering low in his belly turned up to a boil. 

“You – she – you did?” he said weakly.

She nodded as she came to stand between his legs once more. “She kept thinking about this scar right here.” She ran the tip of one slender finger over the scar that marred his upper lip, then met his eyes. 

She raised her eyebrows, and Cullen nodded eagerly. 

Piper tilted his chin up once more and traced the very tip of her tongue over his lower lip, and Cullen instinctively parted his lips. Her tongue danced along his upper lip and across his scar, and Cullen waited breathlessly for her kiss– 

She nipped his lower lip, and he stopped breathing from sheer excitement. Then she released his chin and stepped away. 

He leaned toward her, but she was already out of his reach. “Piper,” he begged. 

She started speaking again as though she hadn’t heard him. “The elven captain also kept thinking about the Golden Boy’s body,” she said casually. “Now, she couldn’t really be sure what kind of body he had under his fancy navy uniform, but she liked to imagine that it was hard and muscled, with just the right amount of hair.” She was working the buttons of her breeches as she spoke, and Cullen stared stupidly at her slim and scarred hands for a moment before realizing that she watching him expectantly. 

He swallowed hard, then followed her implicit demand: he pulled off his shirt and laid it on the bed, then met her eyes.

The corner of her lips quirked in approval. “Yes, that’s exactly what the elven captain was thinking about.” She pushed her breeches down, leaving her body completely bare. 

His manhood pulsed with want, and he shifted restlessly on the bed, but Piper was talking once more. “Now this elven captain: she was a lusty lady, you see, so she was also imagining that Golden Boy’s cock, and how thick and hard it must be when he was ready to fuck.”

 _Maker’s breath._ He wasn’t sure why, but every time Piper started up with these dirty words, it was like a part of his mind left him entirely, leaving him incapable of thinking about anything but the next naughty thing that might fall from her mischievous lips. 

He stood up and untied his sash, and a few ragged breaths later, he was naked as well. Piper’s heated gaze slid slowly down his body, and Cullen almost shivered with desire: her attention and her _intention_ were so patently clear, and when her eyes came to land on his manhood, he was so aroused that he didn’t even blush. 

She bit her lip, then slowly raised her eyes back up to his face. “The elven captain was so turned on by the thought of this Golden Boy, with his handsome golden hair and his thick hard cock, and she wanted him lying back on her bed. She wanted to ride that handsome face of his while he licked her with his pretty mouth.” She raised one quizzical eyebrow.

His eyes dropped to the telltale sheen of moisture at her inner thighs, and he immediately sat on the bed. Before he was fully settled on his back, Piper was crawling over him. Her petite breasts skimmed over his swollen shaft, and Cullen gasped and jerked his hips. 

She bit his nipple gently, making him gasp again. By the time she was straddling his face, his manhood was almost aching with want, and his mouth was watering for her. 

She looked down at him and ran her fingers through his hair. “Lick me,” she purred. “Make me scream with that handsome mouth of yours.”

He didn’t hesitate. He wrapped his hands around her thighs and pulled her hips closer to his mouth, then placed an open-mouthed kiss between her legs.

She gasped. “Yes,” she breathed, and then she was undulating toward him, pushing her warmth toward his willing mouth, and Cullen enjoyed the rolling of her hips as she coated his lips and tongue with her sweet-and-salty taste. 

She moaned and rested her palms on the wall overhead, and Cullen’s manhood throbbed in response to her pleasured sounds. He lifted his hips by instinct, but Piper’s hips were still moving and pressing her swollen nub toward his tongue, and Cullen forced himself to focus on the sharpness of her breathing and her secret scent as she rocked herself toward his mouth.

She suddenly pounded the wall. “Fuck,” she gasped, and she threw her head back and let out a wild cry. The sound of it was guttural and uninhibited, sending a fresh thrill through his chest and straight down to his impatiently throbbing groin, and he clenched his fingers in her thighs as she rode his face to the end of her peak. 

She slid her hand through his hair as she climbed off of him, then reached down and wrapped her fingers around his pulsing shaft. “Now,” she gasped, “what the elven captain _really_ wanted was for the Golden Boy to fuck her exactly how _he_ wanted her.” She squeezed his manhood, and Cullen blurted out the first thing on his mind.

“You on top,” he said. “Piper, please, I… I would like–” 

“Whatever you want, Golden Boy,” she said, and she swiftly straddled his hips. “Take me how you want me.” 

“Gladly,” he panted. He sat up and shuffled back so he was resting against the wall, then grabbed her hips and pulled her onto his desperate manhood. 

Maker, she was so incredibly warm and _wet_. An unstoppable groan left his throat as he slipped inside of her, and a moment later, his palms were splayed on her luscious bottom as he pulled her against his body in a frenzy of want.

She dug her fingers into his shoulders. “You want me to fuck you hard?” she demanded.

“Yes,” he gasped.

She grinned, then thrust herself _hard_ onto his lap, and he jerked and dropped his forehead against her shoulder. “Piper,” he begged. 

She pressed her lips to his temple. “Again?” she breathed.

“Please,” he moaned. 

She lifted herself once more and came down hard onto his lap, and Cullen pressed his gasping lips against the side of her throat. Then she was riding him fast and hard, and the tendon in her neck was salty and firm against his teeth, and his heartbeat was a frantic tattoo in his ears and her hair was a tangle of silver silk in his fingers–

He hit his peak in a sudden blinding rush, and Piper’s sharp cry of pleasure only made it better. By the time he could open his eyes once more, it was to discover that his hands were still twined in her long and wavy hair. 

He released her hair and leaned away from her, and a prick of guilt pierced his contentment: he’d left a bitemark at the juncture of her neck and shoulder. 

“Maker’s breath,” he murmured. He winced and gingerly stroked the mark with his thumb. “I – forgive me, Piper, I…”

She laughed merrily. “Don’t be sorry. _I’m_ not sorry, not one bit.” She ran her hands through his dishevelled hair, and Cullen sheepishly admired her cocky little smile before she leaned in to kiss him.

Despite her playful mood, her kiss was sweet and soft, and he smile was just as soft when she pulled away. “Did you like my story?” she asked.

A shiver of residual pleasure ran down his spine at the memory of her carnal words, and he could feel his cheeks warming yet again. “I did,” he murmured. “I love all of your stories, Piper.” 

Her smile widened. She kissed him once more, and Cullen happily savoured her lips. Piper’s stories weren’t always serious or grounded; they ranged from suspenseful to irreverent, breathtakingly adventurous to absurd, and Cullen loved the spirited retellings of her imagination come to life. But the stories he loved most were the ones that were the most mundane. In these stories of her life, Piper was giving him little veiled pieces of her long-guarded heart. 

In telling him those stories, Piper was trusting him. And for that reason alone, Cullen would cherish every story she ever told.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SCHOUTE SPOILS US WITH THE ART THIS WEEK OKAY
> 
> I am [Pikapeppa on Tumblr,](https://pikapeppa.tumblr.com/) and our wonderful creator and artist is [the inimitable Schoute!](https://schoute.tumblr.com/) Come and say hello! xoxo


	29. Heart of the Storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some finagling with overlapping timelines in this chapter; I hope it makes sense and is easy to follow!

###  PIPER 

_Ar ash ven’emah. Sule melahn’an, es’an eolasemah abelas._

Green. Lush, verdant, flickering green. She was floating through the dark toward it, and the deeper she sank, the more brightly it glowed. 

It was so bright, an almost eye-watering green like fresh springtime leaves on the Storm Coast. Piper did always love a storm.

_Es’an eolasemah ra._

She was close now, so close, but there was no rush. She could just float her way there and she would find it. 

_Sule ar vena’ash, es’an eolasemah ra._

She reached toward the green, reaching for its pulse, and as she reached, the more it seemed to glow, filtering through the seam of her eyelids and bringing her – oh, no longer floating down but rising up, up through the darkness back into the light…

Piper opened her eyes. 

She blinked owlishly, then stretched her arms and yawned. The light coming in through the windows over her bed was hazy and pale, and Piper smiled to herself in satisfaction; it was clearly a cloudy day, which meant that Dorian’s prediction of an upcoming storm was likely going to come true.

“Good morning,” Cullen said softly.

Piper sat up and pushed her mad hair out of her face, then looked over at the couch where Cullen was sitting with a cup of tea. “Good morning, Golden Boy,” she purred. 

He smiled. “Did you sleep well?”

“Of course,” she said airily. She’d started having these odd quixotic dreams about a week after they’d left Afsaana, and they’d been occupying her sleeping mind for the past few days. But Cullen didn’t need to know about that. It wasn’t like the dreams were nightmares or anything. 

She sat up and curled her arms loosely around her knees. “What are you reading?”

He lifted the book on his lap to show to her. “Your captain’s logs from six months ago,” he said.

He was grinning now, and Piper knew exactly why; Cullen was a frequent mention in her ship’s logs, especially during the days when they visited Kirkwall. She had no shame about how often he was mentioned in her logs, but all the same, she straightened in the bed and gasped in mock offense. 

“Reading the captain’s logs? How dare you?” she scolded. “Those are private!”

He gave her a chiding look. “They are not. The captain’s logs are public record for the officers.”

She chuckled and threw back the covers. “All right, fine, you can read them. No criticizing my horrid handwriting, though.” She slid out of bed, and without bothering to put on any clothes, she padded over to join him. 

He raised his eyebrows and tapped the page. “I have to say, I’ve never read a captain’s log quite like this. Your logs tend to read rather like a personal diary. The actual information is completely intertwined with your, er, commentary.” 

She plopped down beside him and propped her cheek on one fist. “That’s a strategic choice. If anyone tries to steal my logs and find out all my secrets, they’ll have to fight their way through my bullshit if they want any information from me.”

Cullen smirked. “Are you sure it’s not because you enjoy making clever comments about the crew? A frequent feature in your logs is a running tally of how many times you’ve made Fenris curse at you in a single day.” He started flipping back through the book. “I also found an entire page dedicated to listing the items Dorian borrowed from you and didn’t return, with additional notes to state whether you managed to sneak into his room and steal them back without his noticing.” He gave her a quizzical look. “Why don’t you just ask him to return–?”

“Oh Golden Boy, so business-y first thing in the morning,” Piper said loudly. She pushed the logbook off of his lap and straddled him instead. “I think you owe your captain a proper morning greeting before you launch into questioning me about my record-keeping habits.”

He chuckled and smoothed his hands over her bare hips. “Piper, I believe _you’re_ the one giving me a proper morning greeting when you present yourself to me this way.”

Piper grinned at his provocative comment. Just as she’d hoped, his gaze was travelling over her naked body, so she slowly pushed her hair back and stretched her arms overhead. “I don’t know what you mean,” she said innocently. “I’m just sitting here – _hey!_ ” She laughed in surprise as Cullen abruptly lifted her up, and she wrapped her arms loosely around his shoulders as he carried her over to the bed. 

He laid her down on the rumpled blankets and stretched himself over her, and Piper grinned. “Now _this_ is a proper morning greeting,” she said with relish. 

“I should hope so,” Cullen murmured. “It’s my duty to make sure the captain is, er, refreshed enough to fulfill her duties to the best of her ability.” He stretched her arms above her head, and Piper let out another delighted laugh before he captured her lips in a kiss. 

When they finally left her cabin some thirty-odd minutes later, Piper had a cheerful spring in her step, and any lingering unease she had about that strange voice in her dreams had been chased away by Cullen’s _very_ thorough morning greeting. 

She bounced up to the poop deck with Cullen in her wake. Varric was at the helm, and Dorian was looking over the maps with Merrill. Fenris was listening to their conversation with a frown, and Cole was… well, not doing anything really, aside from looking around vacantly as he tended to do whenever he wasn’t in the crow’s nest. 

Piper planted her fists on her hips. “A fair morning to you all, you beautiful bundle of bilgerats,” she announced.

Merrill giggled at her greeting, and Varric smirked. “It’s not _that_ fair a morning, Cap.” He glanced at the sky, which was a lovely steel-grey. “That storm that Sparkler mentioned is definitely going to hit.”

“Good,” Piper said with relish. “It’s been too long since we had a proper storm. I can’t wait to feel it snapping in my hair.” She walked over to the table and joined the others. “Are we well on track to get there today?”

“We certainly are, despite the ugly weather,” Dorian said.

Just then, a drop of rain plopped onto Piper’s hand. She wiped the rain away and smiled up at the sky. “Perfect,” she chirped. She swept up her hair and started binding it into a messy braid as she approached the helm. “Varric, I’m taking over.”

Fenris rolled his eyes, and Dorian swung his feet off of the table. “That’s my cue to hole up in my quarters. Excuse me, everyone, I’ll be taking that…” He plucked a gold-encrusted compass from Merrill’s hand and started collecting the maps on the table.

Merrill beamed at Piper. “I’ll go make sure everything is secure in the galley,” she said, and she hurried away with Dorian close behind. 

Cullen looked at Piper in confusion. “What is happening?”

Fenris slowly rose from his chair. “Piper is going to guide the ship into the heart of the storm.”

Cullen gaped at Piper. “You – you are? Now?”

She grinned cockily at him and flicked her braid over her shoulder. “What better time?”

Exactly as Piper expected, an anxious little crease appeared between Cullen’s eyebrows. She smiled warmly at him and patted his cheek. “Don’t you worry, Golden Boy. I’ve done this dozens of times. It’ll be fun!”

“Will it?” Fenris asked sardonically. 

Piper shot him a forbidding look. “Shut it, you. Go bother Rynne.”

He folded his arms. “She is working with Anders right now.”

Piper _tsk_ ed and punched his arm. “Then help Kaaras and the others to secure the rigging and get out of my sight.”

Fenris raised one eyebrow at her, then wandered off toward the main deck. Meanwhile, Cullen was still watching her worriedly. “Piper, are you certain about this?” he asked. “It would be safer to drop anchor close to shore until the storm has passed.”

Varric smirked at Piper. “‘Safer’, he says. You would think he hasn’t been on the Lady Luck already for two months.”

Piper grinned and elbowed his head, then squeezed Cullen’s arm soothingly. “You’ve never seen me do this before, I know,” she said. 

“I have never seen _anyone_ do this on purpose,” Cullen said. “This is not something any navy captain would choose to do.”

“I know,” Piper said gently. “But this isn’t the navy.”

Cullen grimaced and rubbed the back of his neck. Piper reached up and cupped his cheeks. “It’ll be fine, Cullen, I promise,” she said. “Trust me, all right? You haven’t really lived until you’ve sailed through a storm.”

He looked at her for a long moment, and Piper steadily gazed into his lovely cocoa-brown eyes. Finally he blew out a breath. “All right,” he said. “Tell me what you would have me do.”

She beamed at him. “You’ve been a captain in a storm, yes? Now you can be a regular sailor.” She gave his bum a hearty pat. “Join Fenris and the others – this is routine for all of them.”

Cullen nodded, then cast a worried glance at the beautiful ominous clouds in the northern sky. “Call for me if you need me,” he told her, and he kissed her temple before stepping away.

“Not going to happen, Golden Boy,” she called after him. “I’m Captain Piper Lavellan, master of storms.”

He shot her a chiding little smile. “Of course,” he said, and he walked away. 

Piper fondly watched his departing back. Then she jumped when Cole’s vague voice spoke in her ear. “It guides you, singing soft, pulling you to the shining places. But it will be all right.”

Piper blew out a breath and smiled at him. “Thanks, Cole. Go on and help the others now.”

“All right,” he said affably, and he wandered away.

Varric tilted his head and folded his arms. “You ever think we’re missing something with the kid?”

“Every damn day, Varric,” Piper said cheerfully. She clapped him on the shoulder. “Now come on, get that big bold voice of yours ready for shouting my orders.”

“You got it, Captain,” he said. He made his way down the stairs and clapped his hands loudly. “All right, everyone to your posts,” he bellowed. “Stand ready for orders.” He began the usual check to make sure the gear above deck was sufficiently strapped down to withstand the storm. 

Piper peered up at the sky and smiled as the fat drops of rain kissed her cheeks and nose. The Lady Luck was moving through the Venefication Sea at nice fast clip thanks to the steady westerly wind, but those lovely roiling stormclouds moving across the sky meant that the wind direction was soon going to change and carry them south instead. 

This, of course, was what Piper needed; they would need to head south toward the Arlathan Forest in short order anyway, so the changing wind was more than welcome. In fairness, Piper could have done what Cullen preferred and circumvented the storm entirely. If they trimmed the sails now and slowed the ship until the wind direction changed, they could simply allow the wind to carry them straight to the forest. 

But Piper wasn’t in the mood to play it safe. She’d never been able to resist a good storm, and it had been so long since she’d seen one that was the perfect level of risk: moderate winds and rain with a little thunder and lightning for flavour. Dangerous for an inexperienced or nervous captain, but nothing more than an exhilarating challenge for someone like Piper. 

Besides, Cullen had never seen her conquer a storm before, and she wanted to show off a little. She might be fond of a tall tale or two, but her prowess at steering through storms was no exaggeration, and she wanted to prove it to him. 

There would be no prudent trimming of the sails. Piper would keep the Lady Luck running with the wind until it carried them right into the storm. Only then would she adjust the sails and set them on a southeast course to the edge of the Arlathan Forest. 

Unfortunately, Piper’s plan didn’t go as she hoped. 

The first part of her plan went off without a hitch; the Lady Luck slid smoothly into the thick of the storm, and it wasn’t long before the wind was tugging stray hairs from Piper’s braid to whip across her face. 

She grinned up at the dark blanket of the sky. The cool and heavy rain was plastering her shirt to her chest, and she sluiced some of the water from her face before gripping the handles of the helm once more. “Hey, you sorry seadogs!” she shouted to the crew. “I hope you all needed a bath, because you’re getting one now!”

They replied with a frenzy of shouting and jeering that was nearly drowned out by the symphony of the storm, and Piper let out a wild laugh. 

Then, all at once, the wind ratcheted up to a screaming gale.

Lady Luck lurched toward its port side, and Piper stumbled and almost fell over. “What the fuck?” she gasped. In all her years on the Lady Luck, she’d never before witnessed such a sharp rise in the wind speed. 

She could hear screams and shouts of alarm from the deck, and with a pounding heart, she straightened and peered over the railing at the deck below. 

Many of the crew had lost their footing and were pushing themselves upright with some difficulty. The Lady Luck was lurching from side to side now thanks to the sudden waves, and with mounting alarm and confusion, Piper’s eyes darted across the deck. Fenris was hauling on one of the mainsail lines with Kaaras’s help, and Cole was pulling on another line while standing on the taffrail for some incomprehensible reason, and Varric was bolting back toward the poop deck as quickly as he could on the rain-slicked planks. 

“Piper!” he shouted. “What should we do?”

She hesitated for a second as her panicked eyes shifted across the deck. When she spotted Cullen, her heart flipped in relief: he was shouting to two other sailors as he secured another line, and when he looked up to meet her gaze, his scowl softened very slightly as he nodded to her before returning to his work. 

She stumbled back toward the helm. “I’ll turn her to the south,” she yelled to Varric. “Let’s try and run with this crazy wind. Trim the starboard sails halfway — we don’t want to go too fast.”

Varric saluted her, then clattered back down the stairs and started yelling orders to the crew. Piper, meanwhile, grabbed the handles of the steering in her now-frigid fingers and hauled the wheel toward the left. 

_Garas amahn_. 

She twitched in alarm, but her distraction was swiftly subsumed by the urgency of the growing storm. She gritted her teeth and hauled the wheel to the left, then gasped as the ship heaved once more and almost threw her off her feet. 

Her shoulder slammed against the wheel, and she gasped in pain as she righted herself. Then she heard the whispering voice again, like a susurrus of words at the periphery of her hearing. And unlike her dreams, she could remember the Elvhen words for long enough to interpret them. 

_Garas amahn._  
_Come here._

Her breathing stopped. She convulsively tightened her fingers on the handles of the helm. 

_Garas amahn, da’len._

Her heart was pounding in her ears, drowning out the roaring of the rain-laced wind, and she was frozen — no, not entirely frozen, because her hands were moving, turning the wheel to the south, to the place where she would find that pulsing glow, the glowing green—

“ _Piper!_ ”

She flinched and instinctively wrenched her arm away from the hand that was gripping her. “What?” she barked. “Get back to — to your posts…” She trailed off in alarm; the person who had grabbed her was Cullen, and he was staring at her with a terrible combination of fear and anger. 

Varric was beside him. “Where’d you go, Cap? Did you fall asleep?” he shouted, but he looked just as anxious as Cullen.

“What? No,” she snapped. She shoved her half-undone hair from her face and tried to gauge the direction of the wind, but it was a turbulent gale that was extremely difficult to harness. 

_Shit,_ she thought. She pulled the steering to the left again. She needed to angle the sails to catch as much of the south-blowing wind as they could. “What are you doing here?” she yelled to Cullen and Varric. “Go help the crew!”

“You were frozen,” Cullen shouted. Then the ship heaved to the starboard side. 

Cullen and Varric stumbled. Piper snarled and righted herself, then stared at Cullen in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“You were frozen, or in a trance,” he yelled. “Are you all right?”

He looked so angry and so fucking scared, but Piper was suddenly scared too. Frozen? She’d been frozen? Why didn’t she remember that?

“Half the crew just stopped in their tracks for a few seconds there,” Varric yelled. “But it’s not ideal if the captain freezes at the wheel.”

“They seemed ill,” Cullen added. “I don’t think they are coping well with this.”

Was that a hint of accusation she detected in his voice? _Fuck,_ she thought. Her heart was pounding an anxious beat in her throat now. Why didn’t she fucking remember that she’d frozen up? She hadn’t… she hadn’t _panicked_ , had she? Had she gotten scared and put the crew at risk?

A spike of shame penetrated her confusion. She scraped a trembling hand through her hair. “We need to focus,” she yelled. She looked at the sky and the location of the angry black clouds, then turned to Cullen and Varric once more. “Another couple of minutes and we’ll be out of it. Get back to the deck and have them trim the starboard sails. Let the port sails out until we’re moving due south.” She gripped the handles of the steering wheel and glared at them. “I’m getting us the fuck out of this storm alive if it’s the last thing I do.”

“The mainsail is torn,” Cullen shouted.

She gaped at him in alarm. “Why didn’t you lead with that?” she demanded. 

He scowled and opened his mouth to reply, but Piper waved her hand impatiently. “It doesn’t matter. Do what I said anyway. We need to catch the south wind. We’re getting out of this alive, Cullen,” she said fiercely. “I promised you that, all right? Just go.”

His eyebrows wrinkled with anxiety, but he dashed away anyway. Piper glanced at Varric. “Who else was… who else froze up?” she yelled.

“Fenris, for one,” he shouted. “Feynriel and Ellana too. They were thrown overboard.” 

“ _Fenedhis,_ ” Piper hissed. She’d lost Feynriel and Ellana? And Fenris had frozen too? But Fenris wasn’t scared of anything. So maybe it hadn’t been a panic attack that had frozen Piper and the others on the crew–

The ship lurched once more. Varric stumbled into the railing that overlooked the deck, and Piper grunted as she bashed her knee on the steering wheel. 

She gritted her teeth as she regained her footing. “Go,” she snapped at Varric. “Go help the men!”

Varric ran off without another word, and Piper tried to drag in a calming breath as she hauled the steering toward to the left.

“Listen,” Cole said.

Piper jolted, then glared over her shoulder at him. “Not now, Cole!”

He stepped closer to her. “Captain, _listen._ ”

She opened her mouth to berate him again, but then she heard it. 

_Garas amahn. Come here._

She stared at Cole. His pale blue eyes were huge and pleading beneath his curtain of wet shaggy hair, and as she gazed at his pale youthful face, the voice spoke again: a soft whisper through the screaming wind. 

_Min vir, da’len. This way._

Piper stared at Cole. The voice was so quiet and soft, but louder than the storm raging around them, and the longer Piper _listened_ , the softer the storm seemed to sound. She listened, and her hands moved on the steering wheel, and the sky was growing lighter, leeched of the heavy black clouds that she’d been so excited about not so long ago…

Piper drew a deep breath and blinked, then looked around. They were clear of the storm. Cole was gone, back to the deck and helping the others — or so she hoped — and the wind was blowing due south.

She released a heavy breath, but they weren’t out of the woods yet. The edge of the Arlathan Forest was only about two nautical miles away, and the wind was fast – far too fast. And the beach ahead was growing closer with every second. 

“Trim the sails!” she bellowed to the crew. It was looking like they were going to run aground, and she could only pray that there was no reef along this coastline to damage the hull. 

She peered at the quickly-approaching beach on the horizon, then adjusted the steering a couple of degrees starboard in the hopes of aiming them at a broader and less rocky section of the beach. She looked over the railing again. “Brace for impact in two minutes!” she shouted. 

She heard Varric repeating her orders to the crew. A couple of tense minutes later, the Lady Luck plowed into the beach of the Arlathan Forest with a cacophonous scraping of sand on wood. 

A few heartbeats later, the ship came to a stop. Then, very slowly, it tipped a few degrees toward the port side, then finally fell still.

Piper inhaled carefully and unclenched her fingers from the railing. She slowly rose to her feet, then made her way down the stairs to the deck as steadily as she could. 

She let out a slow breath. Everyone was utterly dishevelled and soaked, but nobody looked too badly injured. She made her way around the deck, smiling and patting shoulders and offering encouragement and jokes to her crew while quietly scoping out their injuries. By the time she found Cullen and Varric standing with a dry but shaken-looking Dorian, her heart rate had smoothed out from a frenzied beat into a slower but more sorrowful rhythm: they’d lost four crew members in the storm, and ten or eleven more were injured enough to require treatment. It could have been worse, but Piper’s heart was already aching at the thought of those she’d lost. 

She blew out a breath and looked at Cullen and Varric. “Well, we’re here,” she said lamely. She looked around again with a frown. “Where’s Fen?”

“Ran off to the crew’s quarters the second we came to a stop,” Varric said. “Checking on Hawke, I’m sure.” 

Piper nodded, then ran her hands over her wet hair. “All right. The crew should stay here and rest. Unless they want to set foot on dry ground, of course. I’ll start checking the hull for damage.” 

“I will join you,” Cullen said. 

She glanced him, and a pang of trepidation prodded her chest. His expression looked very stern and decidedly cool compared to his usual warmth when he looked at her, like the way he’d looked at her this morning when she’d first woken up… Mythal’s bloody mercy, had that only just been this morning? It felt so long ago now. 

She nodded briskly to mask her uncertainty. “Good,” she said. “Anyone else want off the ship? Varric?”

Varric nodded, and Dorian raised his hand. “I’m coming too,” he said. “I need to get off this ship, even if it means sand in my boots.” 

Piper mustered up a smile and eyed his fine leather boots. “You sure about that? Maybe you should stay here. Keep those precious footsies dry.”

“My footsies are perfectly prepared for the beach, thank you,” Dorian said in a dignified manner. 

Piper chuckled. Then Varric ushered her over to the taffrail. “Hey, Cap? You might want to look at this.” 

She, Cullen and Dorian joined him, and Piper’s eyes grew wide as she saw what Varric was looking at. There were two recent-looking shipwrecks within sight along the beach. One seemed to have plowed directly into an outcropping of rock about half a mile away, and the other was almost completely washed onto its portside and had a distinctly broken mizzenmast. 

Dorian grimaced. “ _Kaffas_. I wonder if they had survivors.”

Varric grunted. “Whatever happened to Daisy’s claim that no one comes here?”

Cullen looked at him. “Merrill didn’t say no one comes here. She said the qunari and the Tevinter Imperium don’t come here.” He pointed at the nearer ship – the one which had been smashed into the rocks. “That is a pirate ship. The far one I can’t be sure, but it doesn’t have the qunari’s or Tevinter’s distinctive sails.”

“He’s right,” Piper said. “Looks like we might have company sooner than later.” She wrinkled her nose at them. “Still want to disembark with me?”

“Of course,” Cullen said, and Varric and Dorian nodded.

Piper gave Cullen a grateful glance, and his stern expression softened slightly. They all took a minute to grab their weapons, then let down the rope ladder and climbed down to the beach.

Dorian and Varric headed around to the starboard side while Cullen and Piper set out to inspect the port side of the hull. As soon as Dorian and Varric were out of earshot, Piper glanced up at Cullen’s frowning face. “Let’s start by–”

He cupped her face in his hands. “Are you all right?” he demanded.

He looked and sounded angry, but his hands on her face were so damned tender, and Piper almost burst into tears on the spot. She pressed her lips together hard, then smiled at him. “I’m fine,” she said loftily. “And look, I kept my promise. We’re alive, aren’t we?” Then her heart dropped; not everyone had made it through alive. Poor Feynriel and Ellana and Jace and Petyr had been lost at sea…

A fist of guilt squeezed her ribs. She swallowed hard and pulled away from the comfort of Cullen’s hands. “Well, we’ll be having funeral drinks tonight, that’s for sure. Mythal’s fucking mercy, that storm…”

“It was a needless risk,” Cullen said sharply. “You could have been – we all could have been killed. The danger–”

She shot him a hard look. “Cullen, I have done this dozens of times. I have never seen a storm rise that quickly before, and I’ve been navigating through storms on this ship for years. Don’t try and tell me that was a normal storm, because it wasn’t.” She shot him a pointed look. “Have _you_ ever seen a storm get so bad that quickly?”

“I haven’t ever seen such a storm, no,” he said. “But I haven’t had to, because I have always steered clear of them.” 

Piper clenched her jaw. The implication in his words was clear: he thought this was her fault. But it _wasn’t_ her fault. That storm had gone from normal to terrible in the space of a second – no, in the literal blink of an eye. She didn’t care what Cullen said: that storm was _not_ normal, and she couldn’t have known that it would get severe so quickly. 

But she _had_ frozen up. Piper still didn’t understand what that had been about – why she’d suddenly frozen in the middle of the storm… 

Cullen took her hand, and she looked up at him. He was still frowning, but he looked anxious as well as angry, and for some reason, his worry pitched her nerves even higher. 

“Piper,” he said quietly, “when you… when you went into that frozen state–”

She pulled her hand from his and folded her arms defensively. “I don’t know what that was about, all right? But I wasn’t scared,” she said belligerently. “I could have handled that storm, Cullen. I _did_ handle it. We’re here, aren’t we? It was awful and unexpected, but we’re here, and I’m _fine_.” 

“But why did you freeze?” he pressed. 

She licked her lips. She couldn’t tell him about the whispering voice; it would make her sound insane. “I don’t know,” she said. 

His face creased with even more anxiety. “Piper, if you got a little bit panicked, I would completely understand–”

“I didn’t panic!” she yelled.

Cullen recoiled slightly – understandably so, as she’d never shouted at him before. 

A pang of shame prodded her belly. She took a deep, calming breath, then looked him in the eye. “I… look, you’re going to think I’ve gone mad. But there was a… a voice.”

His eyebrows furrowed. “A voice?”

“Yes,” she said. She folded her arms more tightly. “A fucking voice, all right? I just heard it and it… I got distracted.” 

“A whispering voice?” Fenris said. 

Piper whipped around in surprise. Fenris was approaching them with a distinctly shocked look on his face.

She unfolded her arms. “You… you heard it too?”

He peered carefully at her as though she was trying to trick him. “I… yes. I heard… something.” 

When he didn’t say anything more, Piper shifted her weight impatiently. “Well? What did it sound like?” 

Fenris frowned, then ran a hand through his hair. “It was quiet. I couldn’t understand it. But it was… arresting. I can’t describe it better than that.” 

Piper stared at him. “Was it whispering in Elvhen?”

His eyebrows rose slightly. “I… yes, I think so–”

Piper took an eager step closer to him. “Fen, have you been having weird dreams about a green glowing thing for the past few nights?”

His face fell into an expression of unguarded surprise that clearly confirmed her suspicions, and she gaped at him in disbelief for a moment. How the fuck were she and Fenris hearing the same voice and having the same dreams?

She spun on Cullen, who looked just as stunned as Fenris. “See?” she said. “I didn’t panic. I wasn’t the only one who heard it. It wasn’t my fault that we ran aground!”

Cullen’s face creased once more. “Piper, I didn’t–”

“Captain,” Fenris snapped. 

She looked at him sharply. His hand was on his scimitar, and his narrowed eyes were focused on the treeline behind her.

She whipped around to follow his gaze. A bunch of strange pirates had burst out of the forest and were running toward them with their weapons drawn. 

“ _Fenedhis,_ ” she hissed. She reached for her épée and looked at Cullen, whose sword was already in his hand. “All right, Golden Boy, ready to cut down some–”

He reached out and squeezed her hand. “Be careful,” he pleaded.

His tone was gentle, but his words cut her all the same. She knew what he was thinking: he thought she was reckless and that it was her fault that they had run aground. But he was wrong. It wasn’t her fault. That freakish storm, that uncanny voice… those were not her fault.

They _weren’t_ her fault. She was sure of it. So why did she feel so guilty?

She swallowed hard and nodded to Cullen, then looked at Fenris. His lip was curled in a snarl, but when he met her eye, he gave her a brusque nod. 

Piper nodded back, and with a wild scream of defiance, she bolted toward their foes.

###  RYNNE 

****

**_Meanwhile, inside the crew’s quarters…_**  


Rynne cowered against the starboard wall with her hands over her ears. The screeching creak of wood and sand was deafening, and Rynne stayed crouched until the Lady Luck came to a stop.

She cautiously rose to her feet, wincing slightly at the tenderness in her hip and shoulder blade where she’d crashed against the sides of the ship when the storm had kicked up. Then, very slowly, the ship started tilting to the left – er, _port_ – side.

She squeaked in surprise as she adjusted her balance. When the ship stopped tipping, she finally relaxed and let out a breath. “Anders?” she called. “Are you still alive?”

“Yes, Hawke, thanks for asking,” he drawled. 

Rynne smiled nervously and gingerly made her way toward his voice, which was emanating from the darkened rear of the infirmary. The floor was scattered with medical tools and papers and broken glass from some of Anders’s specimen jars that hadn’t been properly secured before the storm, and Rynne grimaced at the sharp scent of the liquor that he’d been using to preserve the unfortunate organs that were now scattered on the floor. 

“This is a right fucking mess, isn’t it?” she said. 

“It really is,” Anders’s voice replied. He sounded distinctly disgruntled. “I don’t think I have enough jars to save everything. Or spirits, for that matter. The crew drink far too much.” He finally emerged from the back corner of the infirmary with a _very_ puffed-up Ser Pounce-A-Lot in his arms, and Rynne gaped at him. 

“Anders!” she gasped. “Your poor face.” His face and neck were criss-crossed with a network of livid scratchmarks. 

“Poor Ser Pounce-A-Lot, more like,” Anders said. “He wasn’t expecting things to get quite so turbulent, was he? No, he wasn’t,” he crooned, and he scratched Ser Pounce’s head.

Rynne raised her eyebrows. “This wasn’t a normal ship-in-a-storm situation, then?” she asked. She started digging out some supplies to clean Anders’s scratches.

Anders snorted. “No, not at all. This storm went from normal to near-hurricane in a split second. Almost like some kind of divine intervention or something. Or, well, a divine smiting, I suppose.” He tapped his chin in a mockingly thoughtful way. “Did I forget to pray yesterday? That could’ve done it.”

Rynne laughed. “Oh please. I hardly think you failing to pray would cause an enormous storm.” She approached him with an elfroot-dampened cloth. 

Anders raised his eyebrows. “Are you saying I’m not special? Well, that hurts.”

Rynne snickered and started dabbing the bloodier scratches on his neck. A moment later, the door to the crew’s quarters burst open.

Rynne and Anders looked up, and Rynne smiled. “Fenris!” she said happily. “Is everything–”

“Are you all right?” he barked. “Are you injured?” He started striding toward them.

“Don’t come any closer!” she said hastily, and she hurried over to meet him. “There’s broken glass on the floor, your feet–”

He tipped her chin up and inspected her face, then ran his hand briefly over her shoulder and arm. “You aren’t hurt, are you?” he demanded. “Bruises? Did you fall during the storm?”

Behind her, Anders tutted. “She’s not made of glass, Fenris. She’s fine.” 

Fenris shot him a venomous look. Rynne gently brushed Fenris’s sodden hair back from his face. “I’m fine,” she said. “A few bumps here and there, but nothing major. Ser Pounce almost made Anders bleed out, though.”

Fenris cast a dismissive look at the scratches on Anders’s neck and face, then looked at Rynne once more. “We’ve run aground, as you can tell. The mainsail is torn, and we lost four of the crew.” 

Rynne’s jaw dropped in horror, and Anders grimaced. “Maker’s mercy,” he said. He picked his way over the glass to join them. “It’s lucky we didn’t lose more people, frankly. Piper must be fuming.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Fenris said. “I’ll see how she is faring in a minute.” He looked at Rynne again. “I wanted to… you’re certain you’re all right?”

She frowned slightly. His protectiveness wasn’t unexpected, but there was a peculiar tension in his face that put her senses on alert: something was wrong. But Anders was still standing with them, and Fenris wouldn’t talk while Anders was here.

Rynne smiled up at Fenris and pressed herself against his chest. “So chivalrous you are, coming to check on little old me?” she simpered. “What a charming and handsome man you are.”

Anders rolled his eyes. “I’m going to find a mop and bucket. Before I vomit, that is.” Just as Rynne hoped, he walked away toward the infirmary.

She took Fenris’s hand and started leading him toward the door and further away from Anders. “Are _you_ all right?” she murmured. “What’s happened? You seem worried. Not that you shouldn’t be worried given that the ship is on the beach instead of in the water, which seems like a bad thing, but still.” She stroked his arm. “Is something wrong?”

He glanced shiftily at Anders, then met her eye again. “I heard… during the storm. I… there was a moment when I… I’m not sure.” He ran a hand through his hair. 

Rynne raised her eyebrows curiously, and Fenris’s scowl deepened. He lowered his voice even further. “The… the dreams I have had these past few nights. I heard… something like them during the storm.”

She blinked in surprise. He’d been sleeping particularly poorly all week, thrashing and muttering to himself, and two days ago he’d finally confessed to her that he’d been having new dreams that he’d never had before: nightmares featuring a strange and ominous voice whose words he could never remember in the morning. 

“You heard that odd voice during the storm?” she whispered.

He nodded. “It felt almost like I fell asleep. In the middle of the storm.” He rubbed the ribbon she’d tied around his wrist. “Varric shouted my name, and it was as though I awoke without knowing I had been asleep.” 

He looked distinctly worried now, and Rynne’s gut twisted at seeing him so unnerved. She stepped closer to him. “Don’t worry,” she said softly. “It’ll be all right.”

“You don’t know that,” he retorted quietly. “You don’t know why…” He ran his hand through his hair again. “I don’t want this,” he muttered. “Hawke, why can’t I just–” 

“Hey,” she said, and she squeezed his arm soothingly. “It’s going to be fine. I’ll, um…” She wracked her brain for a way to make him feel better. She couldn’t make his nightmares go away, but if there was some way she could make them easier to bear…? 

She perked up as the perfect idea occurred to her. “I’ll sing you lullabies,” she said brightly. “Bethany and Carver used to like that when they were little and had bad dreams.”

He pursed his lips. “I am not a child.”

She widened her eyes. “Well, I should hope not, considering what we enjoy spending so much time doing.” She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively, then grimaced. “Was that joke too off-colour? Too late to take it back now, I suppose.”

He stared at her for a second, then let out a little snort of laughter. “You are an idiot.”

She smiled, pleased at having made him laugh. “Only for you, Fenris,” she said cheerfully. “Only for you. Now go on, go check on Pipes and give her a kiss from me. I’ll help Anders to clean up down here before anyone decides they want a little kip.” She frowned and glanced around the crew’s quarters. “Everyone will still be sleeping down here even though the ship is tilted, right? Or will that make the ship tilt even more? The Lady Luck won’t fall over, will it?”

Fenris suddenly cradled her neck in one palm, and she looked up to find him gazing at her with that soft and serious expression that she loved so much. 

He didn’t speak, but he stroked her cheek gently with his thumb, and her heart did a happy little flip. She beamed at him. “Go on,” she murmured. “I’m fine down here. It’s nice and cozy with all the hammocks and the, er, spilled organs.” 

He wrinkled his nose and cast a disgruntled look at Anders, who was now mopping up the liquor while Ser Pounce supervised from his perch on the workbench. “All right,” he said. “Join us as soon as you can. A number of people have been injured.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Shit. Right. All right, we’ll be out as soon as we can.” 

He nodded and left the crew’s quarters, and Rynne returned to the infirmary. “All right, doctor,” she said brightly to Anders. “I guess I’ll start picking up the broken glass, right?” 

“I suppose,” he muttered. 

Rynne shot him a funny look, then shrugged affably. “I’ll take that cryptic response as a yes.” She started carefully picking up the bits of glass and collecting them into a pile on the workbench. 

Anders suddenly stopped in his mopping. “Hawke, listen. I know it isn't my place to criticize, but are you sure about Fenris?”

She looked up. “What do you mean?”

Anders shrugged. “He seems less a man to me than a wild dog.”

She stopped short and shot him an indignant look. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said firmly. “Fenris is lovely. You just don’t know him.”

Anders snorted. “I know as much as I'm ever likely to.”

“And whose fault is that?” Rynne retorted.

He gave her an exasperated look. “Hawke, I’ve been on this ship since before he joined us. He’s had it out for me from the moment we met! When I offered to treat those whip marks on his back, you’d have thought I said I was going to poison him.” He shot her a knowing look as he went back to his mopping. “Whatever he told you about that Tevinter slaver, he hated me even before that. He’s like a dog that bites the hand that feeds him. Or treats him, in my case.”

Rynne folded her arms. “He’s got good reasons to be defensive,” she insisted. “You’d know that if you took the time to talk to him.”

“Hawke, Fenris doesn’t _talk_ ,” Anders said in exasperation. 

“Not to you, maybe,” Rynne said. She gave him a disdainful look. “You are something of a prat to him, you know.”

He shot her a flat look. “For nearly a month when he first joined the ship, we almost thought he didn’t speak the common tongue. Even Piper doesn’t really know his story, and she’s – well, she _was_ the person he liked most on the ship before you came along. It’s not just me that he doesn’t talk to.” He paused his mopping again and gave Rynne an appraising look. “You're the only one he really talks to, you know.” 

A flutter of pleasure bloomed in her belly, followed immediately by a pang of guilt. It wasn’t a good thing that Fenris only talked to her. She was glad that he did – no, not glad. _Honoured,_ really, that he trusted her enough to tell her about his terrible past. But it was sad that she was the only one he trusted enough to talk to. It was _not_ something for her to feel at all pleased about. 

She chewed the inside of her cheek for a moment, then gave Anders a coquettish look. “Why Anders, are you saying I’m special? What a sweet thing to say to a girl.”

Anders didn’t laugh. Instead, his expression grew pensive. But before he or Rynne could speak again, a sudden clamour of shouting and clanging from the deck above drew their attention. 

They both looked up sharply, and Rynne’s heart jumped into a rapid tattoo. She grabbed Anders’s arm. “What is that?” she demanded.

He frowned at the ceiling. “It sounds like we’ve been boarded,” he said. He hurried over to his workbench and took down a belt with a cutlass hanging from it. He strapped the belt around his waist and made his way toward the crew quarters’ exit, but when Rynne made to follow him, he stopped and held up a hand. 

“Stay here,” he said to her. “Stay quiet and hidden in the infirmary, all right?”

Rynne gave him an exasperated look. “Considering how much you dislike Fenris, you sound just like him. That’s what he would tell me to do.”

Anders rolled his eyes. “Maker, I know. If it was up to me, I’d tell you to come with me. But we both know Fenris will skin me alive or something equally barbaric if anything happens to you.”

Rynne raised her eyebrows in surprise. Anders had managed to both insult Fenris and respect his wishes in a single breath.

Anders tutted and rolled his eyes. “Look, I’ll say this much for him: he really cares about you. So stay safe down here, all right?”

She blew out a breath. “All right,” she said. She pointed threateningly at him. “Don’t forget I’m down here, though. I’ll get bored if you leave me alone too long.”

He smirked. “That’s the spirit.” He slipped out of the crew’s quarters, and through the briefly opened door, Rynne heard just enough yelling and clanging of swords to start feeling really worried. 

_Shit,_ she thought. Somehow she’d never imagined the Lady Luck being boarded. In all honesty, it was hard to imagine anyone bold enough – or stupid enough – to defy Piper by daring to board her ship. 

As Rynne hurried to the back of the infirmary, she ran her fingers reassuringly over the dagger that was strapped to her thigh. She hunkered down in the corner and waited with only her breathing and her pounding heart for company. 

The sound of the fight went on for what seemed like hours, but was probably only a couple of minutes. Then the door to the crew’s quarters opened. 

Relieved, Rynne started to stand up. But before she could call Anders’s name, she heard a stranger’s voice. “Hey. Who’s there?”

She tensed and immediately crouched in the corner again, but it was too late; the intruder called out again in a louder voice. “I saw that,” he barked. “Show yerself, and maybe I won’t gut you like a fish.”

_Fuck,_ Rynne thought desperately. _Fuck fuck fuck._ From what Fenris had taught her, fighting in an enclosed space was not at all ideal. Limited range of movement, limited chance of escape especially when there was only one exit, possibility of tripping over or getting injured by objects in the environment…

_But I can turn that to my advantage,_ she thought feverishly. Fenris had always said to play dirty if she had to; anything to keep herself safe. And if that meant using something in the environment as a distraction or as a weapon – something like a pile of broken glass, for instance…

She inhaled slowly and carefully, then glanced at the workbench. It was only four or five steps away, but she’d have to reveal herself to access it. 

Her guts twisted with fear, but she forced herself to breathe through it. Carefully and slowly, she reached into the pocket of her breeches and pulled out the leather fingerless gloves she’d taken to wearing while wielding daggers with Fenris.

She put the gloves on. Then, before she could freeze up or think twice about her insane plan, she stood up.

The intruder looked at her sharply, then began striding toward her, and she held up her hands and cowered as she slid out of the corner and closer to the workbench. “Please!” she bleated. “Please, please, don’t hurt me, I don’t want any trouble…”

“Get over here, wench,” the intruder barked. 

She did as he’d asked. It brought her closer to the workbench, after all. “Please,” she whimpered. “I’m–”

“Shut yer trap,” the intruder said. He looked her over appraisingly, then nodded. “You’ll do real nice once we take over here. Boss’ll be glad to have a pretty thing like you warming his bed.” He gave her a nasty smile. 

A trickle of disgust ran down Rynne’s spine. _Fuck you,_ she thought, but she widened her eyes convincingly and backed away from him and toward the workbench. “N-no, please,” she whined. “I’ll… I’ll do anything if you pretend you didn’t see me here.”

One of his eyebrows rose. “Is that so?”

_Predictable,_ Rynne thought with a fresh rush of loathing. She nodded eagerly. “Yes. Anything,” she said, and she placed her hands on the workbench behind her and arched her spine slightly. 

The intruder’s eyes dropped to her bosom. Then Rynne grabbed a handful of broken glass in one gloved hand and lunged at him.

She crushed the glass into his right eye. He howled and shoved her away, and she stumbled back against the table with a gasp of pain as it struck her spine. Without stopping to consider the fresh ache in her back, she rushed him once more with the handful of glass, heedless of the pricks of pain as the jagged edges of glass cut the tips of her fingers. 

He ducked away, but not quickly enough; Rynne slashed his left cheek with the glass, and he stumbled back with a bellow and rubbed at his bloodied face before pulling out his cutlass.

Rynne’s pounding heart lurched into her throat, and she readied her dagger. She was so scared, so fucking terrified, and to her own shame, all she wanted was for Fenris to be here. 

_Well, he’s not here,_ she thought. So she would have to do the second best thing: channel his bravery and his rage as best as she could. 

She held up the dagger and hunkered into a ready stance. “Come and face me, you sack of shit,” she taunted.

He bared his teeth in an ugly grimace. “You’re fucking dead, lady,” he snarled.

She grinned at him and spun her dagger. “I’ve got news for you, asshole. I’m not a lady.” With no further ado, she lashed at him with her blade.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More tomorrow!! 
> 
> Oh, and those Elvhen phrases in the beginning? All will be revealed in time. Translations were hacked together from [FenxShiral’s lovely resource.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3719848?view_full_work=true) (There is at least one reader out there who I know will probably be able to figure it out though… you know who you are, lethallan! xoxo)
> 
> I am [Pikapeppa on Tumblr,](https://pikapeppa.tumblr.com/) and our INSANELY TALENTED artist and mastermind is [Schoute!](https://schoute.tumblr.com/) Follow us if you like! xo


	30. Voice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Overlapping timelines again, and once again, I hope they make sense and are clear to follow.
> 
> ENORMOUS THANKS to Schoute for the action sequence in the first section of this chapter. SHE HELPS MY BRAIN AND MY HEART.

###  CULLEN 

Piper ran straight at the nearest pirate with an animalistic howl, and Cullen took a split second to be stunned by her chaotic attack before following her into the fray. Two other men were about to attack Piper while she was occupied with her foe, and Cullen parried one man’s blow before kicking the other in the hip, sending him sprawling before swinging back around to cut down the first man with a slash across the belly.

As Cullen continued to fight, he tried to get a swift headcount of their enemies. There seemed to be… seven of them alive now, perhaps eight. Unfavourable odds, certainly, but it could be worse. Piper was jabbing and snarling at her foe like a rabid wildcat, and it was obvious to Cullen that the vehemency of her attack was throwing him off, particularly given her diminutive size. Fifteen paces away, Fenris was handling himself with the same silent and brutal efficiency that he’d displayed during sparring sessions on the deck: in the two seconds that Cullen spent watching him, he trapped a man against a tree with one arm to his neck, headbutted him, then stabbed him through the gut before spinning to block a blow from another foe who was just behind. 

_He’s all right,_ Cullen thought, and he turned back to assist Piper instead. Her enemy was dead, and she was engaging two others with a boldness that was both admirable and terribly worrying, given that both men were almost twice her weight.

One of the men reached for his pistol. Cullen rushed him and slashed at his arm, causing the man to dodge away with a cry of shock. He tried to aim his pistol, but Cullen grabbed his outstretched arm and pulled him close, then elbowed him in the face before slicing him open from throat to hip.

He glanced at Piper once more, and his heart leapt into his throat. She was ten paces away, and she and her foe were on the ground, Piper scrabbling through the sand for her dropped épée while her sorely-injured foe shoved himself clumsily to his feet. As Cullen watched in horror, Piper’s enemy reached out and grabbed the back of her shirt.

Cullen bolted toward her. The pirate was dragging Piper back through the sand, and now he was hauling her to her feet and reaching for her throat with one large meaty hand… 

“No!” Cullen bellowed.

The man twitched in startlement and loosened his grip on Piper, and she spun around and slammed the heel of her hand into his nose. Then Cullen plowed into him in a hard tackle. 

They skidded painfully across the sand with Cullen on top. The pirate was gasping in agony from a wound in his side but still reaching for the dagger on his thigh–

Cullen grabbed the dagger and ruthlessly stabbed the blade into the side of the pirate’s throat. He pulled the dagger free, and the copious spurt of blood was accompanied by the man’s choking cry.

Cullen shoved himself to his feet and turned to Piper. She was glaring at the pirate, her chest heaving with angry breaths as she wiped some blood from her mouth. She spat a gobbet of bloody saliva on his body, then looked up at Cullen. “Come on,” she snapped. “Fen needs us.” She began running back toward Fenris, who was battling three men at once. 

Cullen hastily caught up to her. “Are you all right?” he shouted. 

“I’m fantastic,” she yelled back. “I bet I can kill more of them than you.”

Her smile was blood-tinged and angry and not at all reassuring. But before Cullen could say anything more, Piper looked past him at the treeline and slumped slightly. “ _Fenedhis lasa,_ ” she complained. “More on the approach.” 

Cullen looked, and his heart sank into his stomach; six more men were approaching, and there were the three that Fenris was fighting, and – oh Maker’s breath, was that shouting he was hearing from up on the ship itself?

Piper stopped in her tracks when she heard the sound, and as Cullen watched, she seemed to swell with rage. “They’re on my _ship?_ ” she shrieked. 

Cullen reached for her hand. “Piper–”

She pulled her hand away and pointed her épée at the oncoming enemies. “We kill these assholes, then we destroy _anyone_ who dared to set foot on the Lady Luck,” she snarled. Without another word, she bolted straight at the six incoming men, and Cullen ran after her. 

She flew into the enemies’ midst like a tornado, screeching like a banshee and jabbing her épée in a flurry of chaotic strikes as she reached for her flintlock, and the element of surprise gave her a clear second of advantage: she shot one man in the face and another in the belly before swinging the flintlock into another man’s jaw. Then one of the men grabbed her around the waist. 

She snarled and flailed wildly, inadvertently elbowing him in the face and forcing him to drop her, and Cullen swiftly joined her to control the fight, keeping the remaining men back as best he could. But the odds were clearly against them now. His muscles were starting to ache from every parry and thrust, and Piper was gasping for breath between curses, and Fenris was still fighting one of his three foes – a clear indication that he was getting fatigued himself.

Then three more men burst from the treeline.

 _Maker save us,_ Cullen thought in dismay. Then an arrow punched through one man’s chest. 

Cullen looked up in surprise. Varric and Dorian were approaching, and Dorian was reaching for a second arrow from the quiver at his hip. 

Varric felled Fenris’s final enemy with a crossbow bolt. Fenris looked up and nodded brusquely at Varric, then bolted toward the Lady Luck without a word. 

Varric looked over at Cullen. “Need a hand, Curly?” he shouted. 

“Absolutely,” Cullen called in relief. Within a few blessedly short minutes, most of their foes were dead with three making an escape back to the treeline, and no more were emerging from the forest. 

Cullen straightened and blew out a relieved breath. “Thank you,” he said fervently to Dorian and Varric. “I was concerned for a moment.”

“ _I_ wasn’t,” Piper said belligerently. “We would have had them. You hear that, you rotten sack of swine?” she yelled at a nearby dying man. “You were dead the second you dared to come anywhere near the Lady Luck.” She bent down and opened his throat with her dagger, then rose to her feet and started striding back to the rope ladder that they’d used to get down to the beach. “We need to get back to the ship. The crew–”

Cullen took her hand to stop her. “Piper, take a moment to breathe,” he begged.

She pulled away from him with a glare, and Varric held up his hands. “Cap, it’s under control,” he said quietly. “The bad guys were outnumbered on the deck. With Fenris up there now, I’d bet good money that none of them are left alive.” 

Piper took a deep breath, then slowly released it. “Fine,” she said in a calmer tone. “But we still need to get up there. And I want to know who these bastards are,” she said with a vicious kick to the nearest enemy’s body. “No one is getting the jump on us again. We’ll be ready for them next time.”

“Of course we will,” Dorian said jovially. “And I’ll make sure to wear my crimson linen trousers from now on. It hides the blood spatter so much more effectively.”

Piper scoffed and punched his arm before leading the way back to the rope ladder. Dorian and Varric made idle jokes as they followed in Piper’s wake, but Cullen couldn’t find it in him to feel lighthearted, not when Piper was so upset. 

He picked up his pace and reached out to take her arm. “Piper–” 

She pulled her arm away. “Don’t,” she snapped.

He hastily moved his hand away, then peered at her carefully. Was she angry at _him_? “Piper, if there is something I have done…” 

She exhaled slowly, then gave him a serious look. “Not now, Golden Boy,” she said quietly. “My crew need me.” She started climbing up the rope ladder. 

Cullen’s heart squeezed at her dismissal, but he tried not to worry too much. She’d called him Golden Boy, after all, so that meant she couldn’t be too angry. 

At least that’s what he hoped it meant.

###  FENRIS 

Fenris bolted toward the Lady Luck with one thought in mind: he needed to make sure that Hawke was all right.

He vaulted up the rope ladder to the deck. His heart was hammering in his ears, but it was quickly drowned out by the sounds of shouting and fighting on the deck of the ship: the Lady Luck’s crew were fending off a handful of foes, and Fenris spotted three more climbing over the taffrail near the stern with grappling hooks and ropes. 

Thankfully, Kaaras and Sera spotted them and took them on, leaving Fenris free to run toward the crew’s quarters. As he neared the stern, he spotted Anders fighting a much larger man. 

The larger man slashed Anders across the thigh, and Anders stumbled back with a gasp. Fenris changed course slightly and hamstringed the man before kicking him in the hip, throwing him off balance and giving Fenris an opening to slice him open from throat to belly. 

The man fell with a gurgling gasp, and Fenris spun on Anders. “Where is Hawke?” he roared.

“She’s in the infirmary,” Anders panted. He clutched his bleeding thigh and glared at Fenris. “I figured that’s what you’d have wanted.”

Fenris didn’t bother to thank him. He ran for the crew’s quarters, and his heart rate spiked even further as he noticed that the door was ajar. 

He forced himself to slow down and slipped silently through the open door. His eyes swiftly adjusted to the darkness, and a pulse of terror stopped his breath for a moment. 

Hawke was fighting a man in the infirmary – or she was doing her very best, which involved a lot of dodging around the workbench and staying out of her opponent’s reach, much to Fenris’s relief. He swiftly sank into the shadows and crept silently toward them while scoping out the situation; he could hear Hawke’s panicked breathing and her opponent’s enraged huffing, and there was blood on his face but also on Hawke’s gloved right hand…

He sidled up behind Hawke’s enemy just in time to catch his threat to Hawke. “We’ll teach you a lesson, bitch,” he snarled. “The whole crew. All of us. You’ll be praying for death by the time we’re done with you.”

“Wrong again,” Hawke panted. “I don’t pray.”

Her voice was trembling despite her bravado, and Fenris’s rage spiked at the sound of her fear. He stepped out of the shadows behind her foe and slammed his scimitar through the man’s chest from behind. 

The pirate’s body went rigid from shock and pain, and Hawke screamed. Fenris roughly dragged his scimitar out of the man’s body, and he fell to his knees.

“Fenris!” Hawke squealed. “Thank the Maker, thank fuck…”

The pirate gasped again, then toppled onto his side and twitched as his blood started pumping out onto the floor. Fenris stepped over him and reached for Hawke. “Hawke,” he rasped. “Are you–”

She slammed into him in a full-body hug. “Fenris,” she whimpered. “Fenris, I tried to fight him, I-I – I shoved some glass in his face, did you see? And I c-cut his belly too, he wasn’t too happy about that.” 

Her voice was high-pitched and shaking, and her arms were so tight around his neck that it was uncomfortable, but Fenris didn’t care. He clutched her close with his free arm as she continued to babble in his ear. 

“I fought dirty, did you see?” she said. “See, I do listen when you teach me things, I’m not always just staring at that handsome body of yours…” 

He nodded, then leaned away slightly to study her. “Did he hurt you?” he asked gruffly. Then his eyes landed on the thin line of blood on her cheek, and a fresh pulse of rage pounded in his ears.

He gingerly traced the cut with his thumb. “He cut your face,” he growled. 

“No, I think that was me,” she said. She showed him her right hand. There was glass studded in her gloves and a few splinters in her fingers, and Fenris’s gut twisted at the messy sight. 

He cradled her hand carefully, and she chuckled. “I wasn’t very careful, I’m afraid,” she said. Already she was looking more like her cheerful self, though her face was still pale. 

She smiled hopefully. “I didn’t vomit this time,” she said. “Are you proud of me?” 

He stared at her wordlessly. Was he _proud_ of her? He was… He… _Kaffas_ , his heart was still racing from the horrible rage and fear. Hawke had kept herself alive while injuring a foe who could easily have cornered her, and… _fasta vass,_ this was close. Far too close. If he’d lost her…

He kissed her hard. An instant later, she thrust her tongue into his mouth and pressed herself more firmly against him, forcing him to stumble backwards. He tightened his arm around her waist, and as he returned her ravenous kiss, he was vaguely aware of her pulling off her glass-studded glove and throwing it on the ground. 

His back struck a pillar. Then Hawke’s poor injured hand was clasping his neck, and the glass in her fingers was scraping his neck but he didn’t care, he didn’t care one bit because she was alive and warm and in his arms… 

She stroked his neck and pressed her hip against his groin, spurring a perverse flare of desperation in his abdomen. His heart was pounding still from a potent and confusing mix of terror and relief and adoration, and that pounding was rising steadily between his legs as she pressed her hip against him. 

He pulled her body closer with one rough hand on her bottom and slipped his thigh between her legs, and Hawke broke their kiss with a breathless moan.

She grabbed his tunic and tilted her hips down toward his thigh. “I thought of you,” she gasped. 

“What do you mean?” he panted distractedly. 

She ground herself against his thigh and pressed her forehead to his. “I was so fucking scared, Fenris,” she whispered. “But I thought of you and your bossy voice, and I – you made me less scared.” She clasped his neck in her palms once more. “You saved me before you even got here, you know that?”

His heart swelled painfully – with love and fear and pride, so much fucking _pride_ at how she’d defended herself – and he kissed her once more, devouring her lips and her whimpering breaths and the heat of her tongue in the hopes that she would _feel_ exactly how proud he was.

A long, tense, desperate moment later, he reluctantly broke their kiss. “We should return to the others,” he whispered.

She panted fitfully against his lips, then kissed him once more before stepping away. “All right,” she breathed. “Let’s get out of here. I could use a little sunlight. It’s awfully macabre down here with the organs and the, you know, dead pirate.”

She was smiling at him with her eyes averted from her attacker, and Fenris placed a solicitous hand at the center of her back. “Come, Hawke,” he murmured, and he led her back out onto the deck.

###  CULLEN 

Cullen stepped onto the deck behind Piper and let out a breath of relief. The fight was indeed over, with some of the crew dragging the six dead intruders to the middle of the deck.

“Did we lose anyone?” Piper called. 

There was a general murmur of negations, and Anders called out to her. “No deaths, thankfully. The worst is Alora; she got stabbed in the flank. I’ll have to watch her for a few days.” 

Piper exhaled quietly, and Cullen watched as some of the tension left her shoulders before she squared them once more. “All right, listen up!” she called. “We’re clearly in hostile territory here, so everyone must be armed at all times. No exceptions.” She folded her arms. “We’ll be toasting to our fallen friends tonight. Can’t drink too heavily given the situation, but our people need to be honoured.” 

There was another murmur of agreement and a few raised swords, and Piper nodded approvingly. “Good work, all of you. Every single one of you. I knew I kept you lazy load of layabouts on my ship for a good reason.” She grinned, and the crew laughed and jeered playfully at her before resuming their tasks. 

Piper sighed softly once more as she turned toward the poop deck, and for a split second, Cullen saw her face creasing with unease. By the time he and Piper standing by the table behind the helm, however, she looked like her usual calm and confident self once more. 

She wasn’t looking at him, though. She was releasing her hair from its messy braid while keeping her eyes trained on the table, and Cullen bit the inside of his cheek and resisted questioning her again, especially since Dorian and Varric were coming up the stairs with Fenris and Hawke not far behind. 

Piper straightened as Fenris and Hawke approached the table. “Rynne!” she exclaimed. ”Shit, I haven’t seen you all day. You all right?”

Hawke smiled and darted over to hug her. “I’m wonderful,” she said warmly. “Don’t worry about me.” She sidled back over to Fenris’s side, and Cullen eyed them curiously. Despite Hawke’s reassurances, she was sticking closer to Fenris’s side than usual.

Fenris looked at Piper. “I would like Hawke to stay with – to stay for this meeting,” he said. “If you will allow it.”

Piper shrugged. “I don’t see why not,” she said. Then she looked around at them. “All right. Usually I would say we should get ready to go exploring first thing in the morning, but something weird is going on.” She looked at Fenris. “Do you want to tell them, or should I?”

Fenris hunched his shoulders slightly, and Hawke gave him a quizzical look. He glanced at her for a moment, then turned to Piper and shrugged. “You tell them.”

She nodded and looked at Cullen, Varric and Dorian. “Fenris and I both heard a voice during the storm. And we’ve been having dreams about this same voice for the past… what, almost a week?”

Fenris nodded, and Varric’s eyebrows shot up. “Wait, seriously?”

Hawke looked up at Fenris in equal surprise. “Piper has been having the same dreams as you?”

He pursed his lips and nodded curtly, and Piper went on. “Now, I know what this sounds like,” she said. “But I think that voice is what made us both freeze up during the storm.”

Dorian frowned, but before anyone else could speak, Merrill’s pert voice called to them from the bottom of the stairs. “I heard it too,” she said. 

“You did?” Piper said in surprise. She gestured for Merrill to join them.

“Yes,” Merrill said. She hurried over to Piper’s side. “I’ve been having dreams too, and I think I know what that voice is.” Her eyes were wide as she looked at them all. “It’s the forest calling to us.”

Hawke’s eyes widened as well, but Fenris scoffed. “Merrill, the forest is not sentient,” he said. “It can’t call to you.”

“There’s something here, Fenris,” she said firmly. “I can feel it in my blood, and you can too.” She took a small step closer to him. “The voice is calling to the elves, can’t you see? Only the elves on the crew heard it.” 

Cullen stared her in undisguised disbelief. “Are you sure about that?” he said. He’d heard rumours that elves had better eyesight and hearing than humans, but this seemed… well, far-fetched to say the least.

“I’m sure,” Merrill said excitedly. “I was talking to the others on the crew, and it really was just the elves who heard it. It’s like I said: this forest is of our people. It’s protecting us!”

“Protecting us?” Fenris retorted. “How can you say that distracting us during a cursed hurricane is _protecting_ us?” 

His voice was absolutely dripping with disdain, and Dorian grimaced apologetically at Merrill. “He has a point. The last I checked, being beached is not what I would consider being protected.”

“It _is_ , though!” Merrill said. “The other ships on this shoreline are wrecked. They can’t be used again. But _we’re_ fine! We can just push the Lady Luck back into the sea and leave once we’re finished here!” She turned to Piper once more. “I think that the voice called us here more gently because there are elves on our crew. That’s why we’ll be safe to stay here!”

Cullen looked askance at Piper; she was frowning thoughtfully at Merrill’s words. Fenris’s expression was a picture of pure skepticism, and Dorian also did not seem convinced. He pulled another little face. “Surely we’re not _staying,_ are we? Not if this forest has it out for humans?” He pressed one hand to his chest dramatically. “I, for one, am too young and pretty to die.”

Merrill clasped her hands together pleadingly. “We have to stay! We just got here! Piper, please. Once we get into the forest, we’ll be safe.”

“Have you gone insane?” Fenris shouted suddenly. “How can you think the forest is _safe?_ Did you not see the pirates who came bursting out of that very forest to attack us?”

“Did _you_ not notice how desperate they were?” Merrill retorted. “They tried to take the Lady Lucky from a full crew with less than two dozen men. They were running scared, but we’ll be safe!” 

“And the non-elves on our crew?” Fenris demanded. “What of them?”

“Yes, quite,” Dorian said. “What of us?”

Merrill shot Dorian an apologetic look. “Maybe you should remain on the Lady–”

“No,” Fenris said. He shifted his position slightly so that Hawke was tucked against his chest. 

Hawke looked up at him worriedly. “Fenris–”

“I said no,” he said loudly. He glared at Merrill. “There is no guarantee that the ship is safer. Hawke stays with me.”

“And Cullen stays with me,” Piper added, much to Cullen’s relief. He glanced at her, but she was frowning at Merrill.

Varric cleared his throat. “No one asked the dwarf’s opinion, I know, but there’s something else to consider.” He jerked his thumb at the mainmast. “Our sail is torn. We need at least a couple of days to patch it and re-rig it before we’ll be seaworthy again.”

Merrill perked up at this, and Dorian tutted in annoyance. “Well, I guess that makes things clear,” he drawled. “A nice little haunted beach holiday until the sail is fixed.”

Piper held up a hand. “All right, here’s the plan,” she said. “We take the night to sort ourselves out. A couple of drinks for the crew, but not too many. We’ll set a rotation for keeping watch in case any more assholes from the forest get funny ideas. Tomorrow, I’ll lead a party into the forest.”

Fenris raised an eyebrow. “You still want to go on this so-called adventure? Truly?”

She shrugged. “We’re here, aren’t we? We might as well. Besides, I don’t want this to be a total loss for the crew. If I can get them some good booty, it might…” She paused and ran her fingers over the braids at her temple, then shrugged carelessly. “Well, it won’t undo what’s happened, but it’ll be something for our troubles.”

Cullen watched her with a pang. Her words were confident, but her fingers over the braids at her temple… to Cullen, the gesture spoke volumes that her words alone did not.

Varric seemed to see it, too, as he patted her elbow. “The crew knew the risks, Piper. That’s what being a pirate is about.”

She laughed and elbowed him. “I know that. I just like keeping my crew drowning in riches.” She planted her fists on her hips and smiled at all of them. “That’s how Captain Piper Lavellan runs things around here: booze and booty of both kinds.” She finally smiled at Cullen and shot him a wink, but he was too worried to be embarrassed by her innuendo.

Varric chuckled. “Whatever you say, Captain.”

“Good,” Piper said. “Let everyone know we’ll start our modest revelry around sunset. That gives everyone a couple of hours to settle down.” She shooed them away. “Now get out of my sight and get some rest, all of you.”

They murmured their assent and took their leave. Once Cullen and Piper were alone, Piper sighed more heavily and rested her palms on the table. She lowered her head, letting her cloud of silver hair fall around her shoulders to obscure her face, and Cullen’s heart twisted with sympathy. 

He approached her and gently placed his hand over hers. “Piper, may we speak now?”

She glanced at him, then jerked her head toward her cabin, and Cullen followed her into the captain’s quarters. He closed the door behind himself and turned to find her standing on the far side of the table with her arms folded. 

“Cullen, look,” she said briskly. “You’re the quartermaster now – well, you and Varric – and it’s your job to question me. But I also expect you to trust me. I told you I’ve gone through dozens of storms. I know what I’m doing, and I know you don’t like risks, but this is what I’ve always–”

“You’re right,” he interrupted. “I apologize for that, Piper. Truly.”

She stopped mid-speech and stared at him for a moment, then lowered her arms to her sides. “You don’t think the… you don’t think all of this was my fault?”

He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “I confess, I was angry at first about the storm. But you’re right. That was not a normal storm.” He slowly made his way around the table toward her. “You couldn’t have predicted that that would happen, and it was wrong of me to make you feel that it was your doing.”

She continued to stare at him blankly. Then she lifted her chin boldly. “Good,” she said. “Because I _do_ know what I’m doing.” She plopped down on the couch and crossed her legs, then started making another braid at her left temple. 

His studied her for a moment. Her face was very neutral, but her fingers were flicking quickly along the length of her tiny braid. 

He sat beside her on the couch. “You still feel responsible.”

“I am responsible,” she snapped. “This is my fucking ship and my fucking crew.”

He gently pulled her hands away from her hair and squeezed them. “Piper, it truly was not your fault.”

She pulled her hands from his and dragged them through her hair. “I know that, all right? I _know._ I just… even if it wasn’t my fault, that doesn’t mean I’m not responsible.” She shrugged and went back to braiding her hair. “I’ll make it up to them.”

 _What does that mean?_ he thought. Why did Piper think she needed to make this up to them? It was as Varric had said; the crew knew the risks of this venture ahead of time, and since returning to the deck of the Lady Luck, Cullen hadn’t heard a single person blaming Piper for anything that had happened today. Furthermore, _how_ did she think she was going to make this up to them?

He watched with a mixture of confusion and dismay as she undid the tiny plait and started rebraiding it again. Then he took her hands once more.

“Why didn’t you tell me about those dreams?” he asked.

She let out a breezy little laugh. “What for?”

“You told me about your other nightmares,” he reasoned. “Why not this?”

“It wasn’t a nightmare!” she protested. “It was just a strange dream with some dumb Elvhen words that I don’t remember.” Then she tilted her head. “Shit, I should have asked Merrill if she could remember what the weird voice says in the dreams.” She started to stand up. “Wait for me here for a second, I’m just going to–”

He gently pulled her back down to the couch. “The voice was troubling you, wasn’t it?” he said. “If I had the same odd dream for a week, I would certainly be troubled.”

She shot him a resentful look. “I wasn’t _scared,_ Cullen. And you don’t need to know every stupid thing. I can deal with it on my own.”

A pang of hurt jolted his belly at her uncharacteristic rejection. But the longer he studied her face, the more he realized how defensive she looked, and how young. 

He tipped her chin up to look him in the eye. “I know you can deal with it on your own,” he said softly. “But you don’t have to.”

Her eyebrows lifted slightly, and Cullen seized his chance to push a little harder. “You can tell me anything, Piper,” he said. “Whether you think it is important or not. I especially want to know if something is bothering you.”

She nibbled her lower lip, then shrugged and looked away from him once more. “It’s not– it’s fine, Cullen. There’s nothing bothering me.”

He gazed wistfully at her stoic profile, then tenderly tucked her hair behind her ear. When she didn’t turn to look at him, he began to slowly run his fingers through her hair. 

Piper’s face suddenly crumpled. Cullen slid his arm around her shoulders, and a moment later she was curled in his lap and clutching his tunic while her tears dampened his chest.

She was crying in total silence, and Cullen’s aching heart felt like it was going to burst. He held her and stroked her hair until she wiped her cheeks and lifted her face from his chest. 

She sniffed hard. “If you tell anyone I cried, I’ll–”

“You’ll find some way to punish me,” he said gently. “I know.”

She let out a wet little laugh. “That’s right, Golden Boy. I’ve got a reputation to uphold.” 

_That’s what concerns me,_ he thought sadly. It wasn’t so much her reputation amongst the crew that concerned him; it was the reputation she expected of herself. 

He gazed at her worriedly until her smile faded to seriousness. She tweaked his earlobe. “Come on, Golden Boy, let’s get moving. We’ve got work to do.” She slid out of his lap and rose to her feet. “I really hope most of our liquor survived the storm. Otherwise we’ll have a riot on our hands.”

He sighed. He supposed he couldn’t force her to talk about her troubling dreams – or her other troubles – if she truly didn’t want to.

He stood up as well, then nodded politely. “All right, Captain. What would you have me do?”

She studied him silently for a moment, then suddenly hugged him hard around the neck.

Surprised but _very_ pleased, Cullen hugged her back. She kissed his cheek, then leaned back to look at him. “You know I love you, right?”

For the first time since the storm began, Cullen felt his shoulders loosening. “I love you too, Piper,” he said softly. “Very much.”

She gifted him with a brilliant smile and kissed him with her scarred and lovely lips, and Cullen tried to savour this moment of peace – the first moment of peace they’d had since this morning. But he couldn’t help but worry about that ineffable voice that was nagging the back of Piper’s mind, and whether it would rise up to trouble them once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come hang with us on Tumblr if you like! I am [Pikapeppa,](https://pikapeppa.tumblr.com/) and your insanely talented artist is [Schoute.](https://schoute.tumblr.com/) xo


	31. Safe

###  PIPER 

Merrill beamed at everyone as they wove their way through the trees. “Remember, we want to tread softly and treat the forest gently. The forest is our host and we’re the guests, so we have to be polite.”

Dorian raised his eyebrows as he gingerly picked his way past some exceptionally large ferns. “Be polite to a forest? I’m sorry to tell you this, Merrill, but I was never taught forest etiquette. Will the trees will be offended by my using the wrong spoon? Because if that’s the case…” 

Rynne snickered, and Piper slung her arm around Merrill’s neck. “Sorry, Merrill, but Captain Mad Piper doesn’t do polite, not even to a forest. Any other suggestions?” 

Merrill tittered. “Oh, Captain. I just mean that we shouldn’t go cutting any plants or hurting any creatures that we meet. Remember what that old treaty between the qunari and Tevinter said: no one was supposed to make permanent lodgings here. As long as we pack up and keep moving every night and we keep to ourselves, we’ll be safe.”

“You don’t know that,” Fenris said flatly. “Our ill-advised presence in this forest is premised entirely on your assumptions and theories. You have no proof to reinforce your claims of safety.”

Cullen grimaced apologetically. “I must say, Merrill, I agree with Fenris. Not that we should turn back, necessarily,” he added as Piper shot him a chiding look, “but that we should err on the side of caution. We can’t assume any sort of safety here.”

Merrill gave Fenris and Cullen a sad sort of smile. “That’s all right. You don’t need to believe me. My clan didn’t either when I told them why I was leaving.” She turned back to Piper. “I’m just grateful that you’re giving this a chance. Thank you, Piper.”

Piper gave her a wink. “Don’t worry about it, _lethallan._ You know I’m in for any sort of madcap adventure.” And it was true; Piper was still certainly hoping to run into some interesting ancient ruins somewhere in the forest. But her motivation for this expedition into the Arlathan Forest was no longer the simple thirst for adventure that it had once been. 

Piper _needed_ this trip to be a lucrative one. She needed to bring something valuable back to the crew to make up for what they’d lost on the way here. Cullen and Varric could say that the crew knew the risks, but Piper knew the truth. 

That insane storm shouldn’t have happened. The loss of four of the crew should _not_ have happened. And Piper hadn’t been able to stop it. 

_Never mind,_ she told herself firmly. There was no point ruminating about it. All she could do now was make sure the rest of her crew were well taken care of. She was going to find whatever ruins were in this forest, and she was going to find something valuable in those damned ruins to bring back to her crew, even if it meant she had to kill every other pirate who was lurking in this forest. 

In the meantime, however, Piper truly was enjoying how scenic the forest was. Every leaf and vine and patch of moss was a brilliant and almost unbelievably lush shade of green. The canopy overhead was thick but translucent, allowing the sun to trickle through the leaves in soft slivers of gold that only served to highlight just how verdant everything was. The omnipresent greenness was punctuated by copious flowers of many kinds, including some varieties that Piper had never seen before. 

Merrill, however, seemed to know something about every plant. She was walking beside Rynne and pointing out the various plants to her. “That one is called _misdalavur_ ,” she was saying. “It means ‘knife leaf’, since the leaves look like little blades.”

“Not because they can be used as blades?” Rynne said with a grin.

“It’s funny you say that,” Merrill said excitedly. “Its stems can be peeled into strips and cured, then used as binding for the handles of daggers. So it is associated with real knives, in a way.”

Rynne stared at her in genuine wonder. “Well, that’s incredibly useful.”

Merrill beamed at her. “It is, isn’t it?” She pointed at a nearby orchid that was graced with a cascade of brilliant crimson blooms. “That plant is–”

“Oh, that’s embrium,” Rynne said. 

Merrill widened her eyes. “You know it?”

“Of course,” Rynne said. There was a wry twist to her voice now. “It’s the most popular flower that suitors send to a lady they’re trying to court.”

“That is true,” Cullen put in. “I seem to recall there always being a bouquet of those flowers in the foyer of your family home.”

Rynne winked at him. “You recall correctly, my fine serrah. I’m sure my mother is missing the pop of colour on the hall table, if nothing else.”

Cullen gave her a sympathetic smile, and Merrill patted her arm. “Well, Hawke, that’s a good flower for you to get more familiar with. In Elvhen, it’s called _gaildhalas_ , and its healing properties are really quite striking…”

Piper smiled as she listened to them. It was something of a relief to see Rynne having such a pleasant time. At least one of her companions was pleased to be here, aside from Merrill.

On that note, she decided to check on Dorian and Fenris, who were making up the rear of their little party. Dorian was jotting notes in a notebook and muttering to himself while periodically checking his compass, and Fenris was scrutinizing their surroundings, one hand resting on his scimitar in case of trouble. 

Piper peered at Dorian’s notes, which consisted of a list of compass directions and rough sketches of landmarks. “How’s the mapping going?” she asked.

“Splendidly, if you enjoy taking notes while trying not to crush any precious beasties that might be underfoot,” he drawled.

“You could always take off your boots,” Piper suggested slyly. “Less likely to crush anything lethally that way.”

He gave her an affronted look. “And risk getting my precious footsies filthy? Don’t be ridiculous. Besides, Fenris will tell me if I’m about to step on anything important.”

“You stepped in feces about five minutes ago,” Fenris said.

Dorian’s face twisted with horror, and Piper slapped a hand over her mouth to stop herself from laughing out loud. 

Dorian glared viciously at Fenris. “I – wha – why didn’t you tell me?”

“You were otherwise occupied,” Fenris said. “I didn’t want to distract you.”

Dorian stared at him for a moment longer, then _tsk_ ed loudly. “ _Vishante kaffas_ , you brute.”

“At least _I_ didn’t step in it,” Fenris replied. 

His tone was so dry that Piper couldn’t help it; she snorted out a laugh, and Fenris smirked faintly in response. Dorian shot them both an extremely offended look before burying his face in his notebook and pretending to ignore them. 

Piper sidled over to Fenris. “I’m surprised you’re in such a good mood,” she said. Indeed, he was scowling less than she would have expected, given how little he’d wanted to come into the forest.

He raised an eyebrow. “Do not mistake my levity for agreement with this course of action. I still think this is a mistake.”

Piper tilted her head curiously. “Then why didn’t you stay on the Lady Luck? You could have been the officer who stayed behind, and Varric could have come.”

Fenris gave her a flat look. “When have I ever refused to follow your foolish plans?”

“Fair enough,” Piper said cheerfully.

Fenris huffed in amusement, and they walked in silence for a moment as Dorian continued to scribble in his notebook. Then Piper lowered her voice. “Seriously though, Fen. You didn’t have to come. I purposely gave you and Varric the choice of who should stay behind in case you wanted to sit this one out.” 

Fenris eyed her for a moment, then shrugged. “It is what it is. Besides, Hawke was looking forward to this adventure, as you well know.”

Piper smiled at this. It was certainly a boon to have Rynne along to keep Fenris from scowling _too_ much. 

Dorian seemed to agree, as he deigned to speak to them again. “Oh Fenris, that’s very sweet of you,” he said. “I suspect your fair lady was expecting something more mundane than some sort of mystical elven siren song, however.”

“Weren’t we all?” Fenris said rhetorically.

Piper shot him a wry little smile. He wasn’t wrong.

Just then, Rynne skipped over to join them. She had a flower in her hand: a multi-layered bloom with a dark pink center that melded into petals of a deep, rich gold. 

Piper eyed the familiar flower as Dorian greeted her. “If it isn’t our newest explorer herself,” he said. “Enjoying the forest in all your natural glory, are you?” He glanced with some distaste at Rynne’s feet, which were bare like Piper’s, Fenris’s, and Merrill’s. 

“I am, thank you!” Rynne said brightly. She poked his chest. “ _You_ should try going without boots, Dorian. Get those feet of yours–”

“I’m perfectly fine in my boots, thank you,” Dorian said loudly. 

Piper gently stroked the petals of the flower in Rynne’s hand. “Does Merrill know you picked that?” she asked.

“Of course,” Rynne assured her. “She said a little blessing before cutting it for me.” Then she turned to Fenris and held out the flower to him. “I brought this for you.”

Fenris’s eyebrows jumped up on his forehead. “For me?” he said blankly.

“Yes,” she said. “It’s called _felan'asahngar_. It means ‘lucky plant’. It’s good luck!” She batted her eyelashes at him. “It’s also a very attractive flower, so it’s perfect for you.”

Piper smiled to herself. _Felan’asahngar_ blossoms weren’t just a good luck charm. She wondered if Merrill had told Rynne the deeper significance of the flower among the Dalish.

Fenris scratched the back of his neck, then gingerly took the flower from her. “Um. Thank you, Hawke.”

He was holding the flower so awkwardly, as though he’d never even held one before, and Piper tried hard not to laugh. Then Rynne tutted and gently took the flower back from him. “Here, like this, so you don’t have to hold it.” She tucked the flower behind his ear, then kissed his cheek. “Now you’re even more handsome,” she said, and she winked at him before sashaying back to Merrill’s side. 

Dorian and Piper both grinned at Fenris, and he hunched his shoulders slightly. “What?” he muttered. “Don’t stare at me.” He removed the flower from behind his swiftly-reddening ear and gently rubbed one of the petals between his fingers. 

Dorian pouted playfully. “Oh, do put it back, Fenris. It was very fetching. Gold is a good colour on you.” He gave Fenris a speculative look. “Have you ever thought about piercing your ears? I could lend you some jewelry if you like.”

Fenris scowled at him. “Why would I willingly mutilate my own body?”

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Dorian scolded, and he ran his fingers lovingly over his own many gold earrings. “It’s not mutilation, it’s decoration!”

Fenris rolled his eyes, but Piper noticed with amusement that he was still carefully cradling the _felan’asahngar_ in one hand. 

She shook her head fondly, then left Fenris and Dorian to their bickering to rejoin Cullen instead. He was walking with Merrill and Rynne, but as Piper drew level with him, he smiled at her. “Is everything all right with the others?” he asked.

Piper grinned and tucked her hands in her pockets. “Dorian stepped in shit,” she reported. “In other words, everything is great.” 

Cullen sputtered with surprise. “He stepped in–? He must be, er, upset.” 

“He is,” Piper said cheerfully. “Made us laugh, though.” 

Cullen shook his head in amusement, then he reached out and smoothed one hand over her hair. “And you?” he said in a quieter voice. “Are you all right?”

Piper let out a breezy little laugh. “Of course. I didn’t step in shit, so I’m feeling particularly great.”

His smile widened, but Piper could clearly see the worry in that little crease between his eyebrows. Cullen was being particularly kind and solicitous since her stupid outburst last night, and his caring was not unlike that Rivaini pastry that was soaked in rich honey syrup: it was delicious in small amounts, but too much of it was almost _too_ much for Piper to bear. If Cullen kept on being so gentle, Piper would keep thinking about _why_ he was being so gentle, and she didn’t want to think about it. 

She didn’t want to keep thinking about the disastrous storm and the Lady Luck being damaged and her four lost crew members. What she wanted was to fix the mess she’d brought them all into. There was no time to mope around and whine, not if she was going to find some valuable booty to bring back to the crew. 

She smiled confidently at Cullen. “I think we’re going to find something interesting soon. I can feel it in my gut.”

His eyes widened. “You mean – is it that voice? Is that how Merrill knows where to go, even without a map to follow?”

Piper gaped at him for a second, then scoffed. “No, Golden Boy, I was just kidding around. And Merrill is finding the way by scouting, like how she would do with her clan.”

“I’m not, actually,” Merrill called over her shoulder. “I’m following the forest.”

Piper looked up in surprise. “What do you mean?”

“I’m following where the forest tells me to go,” Merrill said.

Behind them, Fenris sighed loudly. “ _Fasta vass._ This again?”

Merrill stopped and turned around. “Just be quiet, Fenris,” she said, but her tone was gentle. She waved for Fenris and Piper to come closer. “Close your eyes for just a moment, both of you. Try to feel the forest.”

Piper glanced at Fenris and nearly laughed at his petulant expression. Then Merrill tapped her arm. “Please, _lethallan._ Just trust me.” 

Piper guiltily looked at Merrill’s pleading face, then closed her eyes. She breathed and listened quietly for a minute, but all she felt was stupid.

Beside her, Fenris grunted, and Piper bit her lips to fight a mad urge to laugh. Then Merrill spoke in a calm tone. “Just relax, both of you. Let your minds go empty.” 

“That will be easy for Piper,” Fenris grumbled. “Her mind is always empty.”

Piper snorted a laugh and shoved his arm. “Fuck you, Fen.”

” _Shh,_ ” Rynne hissed. “I want to see what happens!”

Piper stuck her tongue out at Rynne, then closed her eyes again and tried to let her mind go blank. She turned her attention to the sound of the breeze sliding through the leaves, and she thought idly about the cushy moss beneath her bare dirty feet. When her mind started telling her how foolish she probably looked, she acknowledged that yes, she probably looked foolish, then went back to thinking about the breeze and the moss and the sun trickling through the leaves without _really_ thinking about them at all.

That’s when she felt it.

It wasn’t a voice this time, to her mild relief; it was more of a… an intuition, or a sense. Despite her scoffing at Cullen earlier, it did kind of remind Piper of a gut feeling. 

She opened her eyes to find Merrill looking at her expectantly. “Do you feel something?” Merrill asked eagerly. 

Piper looked askance at Fenris, who was looking uneasy. “Which way should we go?” she asked him.

He frowned, then jerked his chin to the south, and Piper looked at Merrill. “That’s what I, er. Same here,” she said. 

Merrill beamed at them. “Exactly,” she said, and she turned on her heel and continued to stroll through the forest in a southward direction. 

Piper looked at Fenris once more. He scowled and shrugged, and they all set off in Merrill’s wake. 

Dorian jogged forward to join Merrill, and they started discussing his mapping attempts. Meanwhile, Rynne drifted back to walk with Fenris, and Cullen and Piper fell back to take the rear. 

Piper watched idly as Rynne stroked Fenris’s arm before taking his hand. Then Cullen spoke in a quiet voice. “What do you suppose is, er, happening here?” he asked.

Piper shrugged. She honestly wasn’t sure what to think. “Merrill clearly thinks it’s a spirit of the forest or something,” she said. 

“But what do _you_ think?” Cullen asked. “Do you think it is a… a forest spirit? Or could it be something about your, um, background…?”

He looked somewhat discomfited, and Piper grinned at him. “You can just ask if it’s an elf thing, Cullen. I won’t mind.”

He blew out a breath and rubbed the back of his neck. “I couldn’t decide if it would be rude.” 

“Depending on the elf, it might,” she agreed. “But you can ask me whatever you want.” 

His eyebrows rose slightly, and she immediately regretted her choice of words. She hoped he wasn’t going to ask her about her feelings about the storm and the crew yet again. 

Thankfully, he stayed on topic. “Is there any truth to the, um. The rumours about elf senses?” he asked cautiously. “I had heard that your eyesight is better than a human’s....” 

Piper nodded. “Yes, that’s true. Our hearing is better than yours, too.”

Cullen stroked his stubbled chin. “Ah. So perhaps this, er…” He cleared his throat. “Perhaps this is a matter of hearing something that we can’t, if your sense of hearing is superior to ours.”

Piper made a little face. “I don’t think so. Qunari and tal-vashoth have even better hearing than we do, but Kaaras wasn’t affected during the storm. Besides, it wasn’t a voice this time,” she said with a vague wave at the forest. “There were no words. It was just a sort of gut feeling.”

He looked at her in surprise. “But you said you were kidding about that.”

“I know,” she said testily. “I _was_ kidding. I didn’t actually feel it then, or… or I didn’t think I did.” Feeling slightly unnerved, she ran her hands through her hair, then shrugged with a carelessness that she didn’t quite feel. “Either way, it’s not like we have a better plan in mind, so we might as well follow Merrill, right?”

Cullen took her hand. “We can go back to the ship at any time if you choose,” he said quietly. 

Her gut twisted with nerves. She pushed the feeling aside and scoffed. “We’re not going back to the ship, Golden Boy. We’ve got an entire unexplored forest ahead of us.” She waved at the trees ahead with a grand gesture. “Green as far as the eye can see! We have to keep going until we find something that _isn’t_ green. That’ll be the real challenge.” 

He studied her for a moment, then huffed in amusement. “You may be right. As nice as this forest may be, it might become monotonous after some time.”

“Exactly,” Piper said with satisfaction — more at having distracted him than anything else, if she was honest. She released his hand and gave his butt a smack. “Now keep your eyes peeled for something interesting. I’ll give you a nice reward if you find me something ancient and elfy.” She wiggled her eyebrows lasciviously.

He shot her a chiding smile and playfully tugged a lock of her hair. Piper laughed and smacked his butt once more, and as the afternoon wore on and their stroll through the forest continued, Piper was able to relax and almost forget that their path was being determined by an odd phenomenon that none of them could explain.

Late that afternoon, when the sun was low enough for the forest to start growing dim, Piper was in the midst of entertaining the group with a dramatic retelling of Varric’s infamous nug king story when she heard it. 

_Min vir. This way._

She broke off in the middle of her sentence and looked to the west. At the same time, Fenris frowned in the same direction.

Merrill smiled at them both. “You heard that?” she said. 

“Yes, unfortunately,” Fenris grunted. 

Merrill clapped her hands. “We must be close to something,” she chirped. “Come on!” She hurried off to the west at a faster pace. 

Dorian grimaced at Cullen and Rynne. “I don’t know about you, but I think I’ll hang back and make sure there are no booby traps before rushing after our dear Dalish companion.” He fell back to walk behind Cullen and Piper.

Cullen twisted his lips worriedly, and Piper patted his arm. “Don’t worry, Cullen,” she said with a boldness that was partly feigned. “I’ll protect you.” 

He gave her a small half-smile as they followed Merrill’s path with Fenris, Rynne and Dorian close behind. The foliage they were walking through now was thicker than ever: the ferns now reached halfway up Piper’s thigh, and the moss coating the trees was so rich that their trunks were more green than brown. When they finally caught up to Merrill, it was to find her standing in front of a huge stone monument of obvious Elvhen make.

Piper stared at the monument in frank amazement. It depicted a wolf in a lounging position with its head proudly lifted, and it was taller than Piper at its highest point. The sculpture was not intricate, but based on the sharpness of the lines and the smoothness of the curves, the hands that had rendered it were uncommonly talented. 

“Oh, it’s the Dread Wolf!” Rynne said. 

Merrill beamed at her. “Yes, Hawke, exactly!” She turned to Piper with shining eyes. “Have you ever seen an elvhen monument so large and pristine?”

Feeling rather nonplussed, Piper shook her head. “Honestly, Merrill, I’ve only seen a couple of other elvhen monuments before. That one on Sundermount, and there’s that one of Mythal in Halamshiral that they tried to turn into a monument to Andraste…” 

Merrill smacked her forehead. “That’s right!” she said. “I forget sometimes that you grew up in the city.” 

Piper smirked. “Should I take that as a compliment?”

Merrill’s face fell, and she clapped her hands over her mouth. “Was that rude? Elgar’nan, I didn’t mean to be rude, I just meant to say that I think of you as being Dalish even if you didn’t grow up among the Dalish, even though your father and Deshanna — oh dear, I’m babbling again…” 

Piper chuckled and patted her shoulder. “It’s fine, Merrill, I know what you meant. Sort of.”

“Hawke,” Fenris barked. “Don’t touch it.”

Piper looked up to see Rynne hastily pulling her hand back from the statue. She grimaced at Fenris and Merrill. “Why? Is it rude to touch elven statues?” 

Fenris strode over to her and ushered her away from the statue. “That doesn’t matter,” he said roughly. “What matters is that someone has been here recently.”

Cullen and Dorian looked at him in surprise. “Why do you say that?” Dorian asked.

Fenris gestured impatiently at the statue. “It is pristine, as Merrill said. No moss, no overgrowth at all. Someone has cleared it recently.” 

Piper frowned. He wasn’t wrong about the statue’s condition; it was so clean that if Piper didn’t know better, she would have thought it was new. But if it _was_ new, there would have been signs of whoever had dragged the statue here, and they certainly hadn’t seen that. In fact, they’d seen no signs of anyone else in the forest all day.

Merrill’s reply mirrored Piper’s thoughts. “No one else has been here,” she said confidently. “There was no evidence of anyone else coming this way.”

“So how do you explain how clean the statue is?” Fenris demanded. 

“I’d like to know that, too,” Dorian said. “I wonder if they use a particular solvent? I could use that for cleaning my instruments. And my jewelry.” He reached out and ran one hand over the statue’s rump. 

Fenris sighed loudly. “Dorian, you just touched it,” he complained.

Dorian looked at him. “Excellent observation, my friend. What’s your point?”

Fenris gestured angrily at him. “You were just talking about booby traps. What if it was poisoned?”

Dorian blinked. “Ah. That _is_ a fair point. Well, in any case, you’re welcome. Now we know it’s safe to touch.”

Rynne coughed in a distinct cover of a laugh, and Fenris shook his head in disgust. Merrill, meanwhile, clapped her hands delightedly from her position at the front of the statue. “Look at this! There’s ancient Elvhen writing here!” she exclaimed. 

Piper joined her and peered over her shoulder. Sure enough, archaic Elvhen glyphs were carved into the stone on the statue’s base in between its front paws.

Piper frowned. She didn’t know what the glyphs said, but it looked like two different people had worked on the engraved inscription. Most of the inscription had been engraved in small, tidy glyphs arranged in orderly rows. But the final two lines of glyphs looked considerably more haphazard, almost as though the person inscribing them had been rushed or angry. 

She pointed at the last two lines. “Merrill, does that strike you as odd?”

“It does,” Merrill said keenly. “I’m going to take a rubbing and work on translating it tonight. Maybe it will tell us where to find the Vir’Tualthalan!” She shuffled around in her haversack for some parchment and charcoal.

Piper straightened and turned to the others. “Well, it’s a start,” she said cheerfully. “Looks like we’re on the right track.”

Cullen frowned thoughtfully. “Are we sure it’s the right track? You and Merrill’s stories depict the Dread Wolf as being misleading. Should we be wary that this statue is a sign that we are going in the wrong direction?” 

“He makes a good point,” Fenris said. “We shouldn’t assume this is a good omen. In fact—” 

Piper held up her hands. “All right,” she said loudly. “Here’s what we’re going to do. Merrill will take her rubbing from this statue, and we’ll find somewhere to settle for the evening while she translates the inscription. Based on what it says, we’ll figure out our next move.” She looked at everyone. “Is that satisfactory?”

Cullen and Rynne nodded. Fenris murmured his agreement, and Dorian shrugged affably. “As long as we can have a celebratory drink when we settle in, then I’m happy,” he said.

Fenris raised an eyebrow. “Celebratory? For what?”

“For the fact that I’m still alive, of course,” Dorian said. “I could have died when I touched that statue. It’s a shame no one warned me not to.”

Rynne snorted, and Piper smirked at his blithe tone. Fenris clicked his tongue. “ _Vishante kaffas,_ ” he said snidely to Dorian, and he began to lead Rynne away from the statue. 

“At least _you_ didn’t step in it,” Dorian called after him. 

Cullen rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m just pleased that we have a plan.”

Piper elbowed him cheerfully. “See, Golden Boy? I told you everything was going to be fine.” She was feeling far more cheerful now that there was a clear sign of ancient Elvhen civilization in this forest. Surely this meant they would find a more significant structure soon, like a public hall or a temple or something that would hold some sort of valuables that Piper could sell to bring in coin for her crew. 

Cullen smiled ruefully at her. She patted his arm affectionately, then turned to Dorian and Merril, who were peering at the charcoal rubbing. “All right, fools, let’s find a quiet place to camp so Merrill can get to work on that translation.”

They followed their own trail away from the statue and back into the forest, then began to make their way slightly east. Just as the waning light of day began to shift into evening, Piper spotted the hazy orange glow of a campfire through the trees – the first signs of other people they’d yet seen all day. 

She held up a hand for everyone to stop. “All right,” she said quietly. “Merrill and I will go ahead and investigate. If we need help… well, you’ll know by the screaming. From them, I mean.” She shot them all a vicious smile. 

Dorian chuckled. “Naturally.”

She winked at him, and she and Merrill slid through the forest toward the campfire ahead. As Piper padded silently through the moss and leaves, she surreptitiously checked her flintlock and her épée to make sure they were easily at hand. One could hope that the campers ahead weren’t hostile, but given what had happened yesterday, she wasn’t holding her breath. 

She was right to be skeptical. She and Merrill stopped thirty paces away from the little campsite — close enough to hear and see, but not close enough to be spotted through the thickness of the trees — and as soon as they started listening in, it became clear that the five campers were definitely not friendly. 

“... told you it was stupid.” The one woman in the group was pacing by the fire. “We should’ve waited to see if the others would come back before tryin’ to steal a whole bloody ship!” 

A burly bald man replied. “How was I s’posed to know their whole crew survived? Entire crew of that other wreck was dead. Well, almost all of ‘em.” He waved his hands angrily. “Fuckin’ dwarf with a crossbow? I didn’t think _that_ would happen!”

Piper glanced over and met Merrill’s eyes. They were talking about their attempted siege of the Lady Luck.

“That’s your bloody problem, Richie,” the woman snapped. “You don’t _think_. We should’ve waited. Can’t afford to lose any more men, or we can’t sail the ship out of this fuckin’ place.”

One of the other men piped up. “So we force their crew to sail the ship for us until we’re back in the Amaranthine again. What’s the big deal?”

The woman sneered at him. “Did the hurricane blow yer brain away, Grizz? There’s only five of us here. No fuckin’ idea if the others are still out there somewhere. How d’you think we’re supposed to force an entire crew of knife-ears and dwarves into doing what we want?”

“Just do ‘em like we do the slaves,” Grizz said. “Couple rounds to the head for some of ‘em, get the rest to fall in line. Show ‘em who’s boss!”

“With what fucking guns?” the woman retorted. “Brilliant bloody plan, the both of ye.”

Piper narrowed her eyes. These people were slavers in addition to trying to steal her ship? 

She’d heard enough to know what to do next. She looked at Merrill and jerked her head at the others, and they slipped away soundlessly to rejoin their companions. 

Cullen’s expression was businesslike when Piper returned to his side. “What did you find?” he asked. 

“There are five of them,” Piper said. “Four men and a woman. Slavers.”

Fenris restlessly shifted his weight, and Piper gave him a grim nod before going on. “The woman seems to be the brains of the outfit. They’re from that group of shit-eating assholes who tried to steal the Lady Luck.”

Cullen frowned. “How long have they been here?” he asked.

“Not sure,” Piper said. “But they must be from one of those wrecks on the beach. They said the crew of the other wreck were mostly dead when they arrived. They didn’t expect to find so many of our people alive.” 

Dorian wrinkled his nose. “Well, that’s reassuring,” he said sarcastically.

“Are they weakened?” Fenris asked. “Easy to eliminate?”

Rynne let out a little laugh. “That’s a very polite way to say we’re going to slit their throats.”

He turned her with a frown, and she held up her hands. “I’m not judging! In fact, I’m in. I’m ready. Let’s slit some throats.” She smiled at Piper.

Piper held up a placating hand. “Hang on. The woman implied that they’re low on ammo, but they each had at least one blade that we could see.”

Fenris nodded. “Good. Then we should–”

“Wait,” Merrill interjected. “There’s more. They might not be alone. The woman said there may be more of their people somewhere else in the forest, but she wasn’t sure they were still alive.” She suddenly straightened and smiled. “Maybe the forest swallowed them up because they’re awful people! Oh, I do hope so.”

Dorian stared at her, then turned to Fenris. “Is she serious? I can’t quite tell anymore.”

“I believe she is,” Fenris said in a flat tone. “Unfortunately.”

Cullen looked at Piper. “How do you suggest dealing with this?”

“We ambush them,” Piper said promptly. “Dorian, Fenris, Merrill and I are well-practiced at this, so we’ll take one each. I’ll keep the woman alive so we can question her. For the last one…” She looked at Cullen and Rynne. “You two can toss a coin for who takes him. I know neither of you are used to this kind of sneak attack, but you might as well start getting used to it now.”

Rynne blew out a sharp exhale, then squared her shoulders. “I’ll–”

Fenris interrupted her. “Cullen, you do it.”

Piper looked at him in surprise, and Cullen shot Rynne an uneasy look. “Ah. Um. I could, if Hawke is amenable…? ”

Rynne placed a hand on Fenris’s forearm. “Fenris, I can do this.”

“I would rather you didn’t,” he said brusquely. 

Rynne scowled and opened her mouth to protest, but Piper held up a hand before she could speak. “Fen, you’re being bossy again, but I’m going to allow it this time because we need to get this done.” She turned to Rynne, who was looking heartbreakingly disappointed. “Sit this one out, all right?”

Rynne nodded. “Captain.”

Piper squeezed her shoulder. “Next time there are slavers to kill, you’ll be my go-to girl, all right? Now let’s get moving.”

Very quietly, they crept toward the enemy’s campfire once more and split off in the thick foliage to surround the little camp, with Rynne trailing behind Fenris. A tense moment later, Piper made a soft trilling sound. 

All at once, Piper and her companions burst from the cover of the trees and rushed the camp. In less than three seconds, Fenris’s assigned foe was dead on the mossy ground, and Merrill and Dorian killed their foes moments later. Cullen’s approach was delayed by a split second – due to lack of familiarity with stealth attacks, Piper was certain – and the enemy managed to flinch away from Cullen’s dagger hand, but Cullen grabbed his shirt and sank his blade smoothly into the side of the man’s throat. 

Piper, meanwhile, ploughed straight into the female pirate’s back and shoved her with all her strength.

The woman gasped and almost stumbled straight into the fire, but Piper didn’t give her the time to recover her balance. She quickly tucked her bare foot behind the woman’s booted one and shoved her shoulder hard, tripping her and sending her sprawling onto her back. 

The woman hit the ground with a pained grunt, but she was a determined bitch; she was grabbing for the cutlass at her waist before she was even able to take a breath. Unfortunately for her, Piper was even more determined. She kneeled on the woman’s stomach with all of her weight, forcing the residual air from her lungs, then punched the woman in the nose with the heel of her hand – not so hard as to break her nose, but hard enough to make her eyes water. 

The woman released her cutlass and reached up to grab her face, and Fenris strode over and kicked the weapon away while Piper straddled the woman’s waist and sat on her belly to obstruct her breathing.

The pirate dragged in a laboured breath. “F-fuck you,” she rasped. 

Piper let out a humourless laugh. “Same to you. How many more of your crew are out there?” She lifted her weight slightly so the woman could speak.

The woman glared at her in silence, and Piper shrugged. “Fine. We’ll do this the hard way.” She pried the woman’s hands away from her face, then grabbed her injured nose and started to twist. 

The woman shrieked. “Stop, stop! _Fuck!_ I don’t know who else is alive, all right?”

Piper released her nose. “Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not,” the woman yelled. “We got split up. Haven’t seen the rest in days, maybe a week. Don’t know how much bloody time has passed since we got wrecked ‘ere.” 

Piper _harrumph_ ed. “How many were your crew?”

“Sixty-four in total,” the woman said. “Half of ‘em died in the freak storm that stuck us ‘ere. We wandered into this fucking forest thinking we’d find summat to eat, some water. All we find is some crumbling wreck of a temple and a bunch of dead men’s bones.”

“Temple?” Merrill said keenly. “What sort of temple?”

“The scary kind with dead bodies ‘round it, you bloody stupid knife-ear,” the woman snarled.

Piper backhanded her across the face and grabbed her nose again, making her gasp in pain. “Where is this temple?” she demanded.

“I don’t know, I don’t know!” the woman squawked. “We didn’t stay! The smarter half of us left before we could find out what killed them fellas ‘round the entrance. Bloody Ianto and the others–”

Piper’s stomach jolted at the familiar name, and Cullen straightened. “Ianto?” he said sharply. 

Piper looked up at him in alarm. Could it really be _the_ Ianto? The same one who had kept Cullen as a prisoner ten years ago? 

The woman was still talking. “... they said they was going to go into the temple, find some old elf treasure or some shit like that, but I know a rotten egg when I smell one. Not touching that cursed place with a ten-foot pole.” 

Piper turned back to look at her. “Answer my question. Where was the temple?”

“I told you, I don’t know,” the woman said loudly. 

Piper slapped her once more. “Don’t you fucking lie to me.”

“I’m bloody not!” the woman yelled. “We can’t tell our ears from our arseholes in this Maker-forsaken forest. It was total chance we found our way back to the fucking beach!” 

Piper paused at this. This woman and her crew had gotten lost? And yet Piper and Merrill and Fenris were able to orient without a map, thanks to that weird voice-feeling-intuition thing... 

She glanced briefly at Merrill, who was watching the woman with a fascinated look on her face. Merrill gave Piper a tiny nod, and Piper looked up at the others. “Anything else you want to ask?” she said. 

“No,” Fenris said shortly. 

Cullen and Rynne shook their heads, and Dorian shrugged. “My curiosity is quite satisfied,” he said. 

“Good,” Piper said. She pulled her dagger from her thigh and stabbed the woman viciously in the neck. 

Her eyes went wide with shock. She tried to scrabble for her copiously bleeding neck, but Piper ruthlessly grabbed her hands. When the woman passed out from blood loss, Piper rose to her feet. “Strip them of anything useful and let’s move on,” she said. 

Her companions murmured their agreement and started searching the dead pirates for resources. Meanwhile, Piper sidled over to Rynne, who was looking rather pale. 

“You all right, love?” she said gently. This was the first time Rynne had ever seen Piper interrogating someone.

“I’m fine!” Rynne said brightly. “No need to fuss, Piper, I’m absolutely fine.” She kneeled next to the pirate that Fenris was looting and started haphazardly searching the dead man’s pockets. “Did you know that I’m actually very stealthy? You wouldn’t think it since I’m such a loudmouth, I know, but I used to sneak into Carver’s room all the time without him knowing. I’d move things around to see if he would notice.” She smiled at Piper. “Subtle little things, you know, like shifting his boots in the closet or moving his comb from one side of this table to the other. It was _just_ enough of a change to drive him up the wall without him being able to accuse anyone of anything.” 

Piper studied her carefully. If not for Rynne’s perfectly cheerful smile, Piper would almost have thought that her story was a dig at Fenris for stopping her from trying a stealth kill. 

She tried to give Fenris a disapproving look, but he was scowling and stubbornly avoiding her eye. She shrugged and squeezed Rynne’s shoulder instead. “That sounds really fucking stealthy, Rynne. You and I will have to try that in Varric’s quarters when we get back to the Lady Luck. If _he_ goes nuts, then you know you’re really stealthy.” 

Rynne beamed at her. “It’s a date.”

Piper gave her shoulder a hearty pat, then returned to Cullen’s side. Rynne might have forgiven Fenris, but Piper was definitely going to crack down on him the next time he tried to be a controlling ass. 

An hour later, when the waning sun had left the forest in darkness, Piper and her companions were settling in for the night at their own little makeshift camp. They were forgoing a fire in case it attracted enemies, relying instead on the dimmer light of the small oil lanterns that they had brought along for this very purpose. They had already eaten their supper of hardtack and dried meat, and Merrill was busily working on translating the charcoal rubbing from the wolf monument while the others discussed the events of the day. 

Dorian pursed his lips thoughtfully. “That thing she said about their crew getting disoriented in the forest. That was interesting, yes?” He tapped his notebook, which was open on the ground in front of him. “Especially with how much trouble I’ve been having trying to map this place. Merrill was able to help me a bit, but it’s quite absurd, really. I never usually have difficulties with mapping, seeing as how clever I am.”

Fenris huffed and ran his whetstone along the length of his scimitar. “Dorian, do you think that if you keep telling everyone how clever and handsome you are, they will eventually believe you?”

Dorian shot him a charming grin. “I didn’t say anything about handsome, Fenris. Interesting that you came to that adjective on your own. Is there something you wanted to tell me? An amusing proposal of marriage, perhaps?”

Fenris shot him a flat look, and Rynne giggled and leaned into Fenris’s side. “Nice try, Dorian, but if you want to get to Fenris, you’ll have to go through me.” 

Fenris smirked and continued to sharpen his blade. Piper, meanwhile, was idly watching as Merrill studiously inspected her charcoal rubbing and cross-referenced it with her own notebook of Elvhen glyphs. 

After a while of watching in silence, Piper spoke. “Hey, Merrill?

“Yes, Piper?” Merrill said distractedly. 

Piper awkwardly tugged one of her braids before going on. “In the… the elf dreams we’re all having. The voice says something in Elvhen, but I can never remember what. Can you?”

Fenris looked up attentively at her question, and Merrill finally lifted her eyes from her parchment. “Yes,” she said. “And in fact, I think it might mirror what I’m seeing in this inscription.” She sat back and looked at them all. “The dream voice says this: ‘I will find her. Until then, they will know sorrow.’”

Piper’s stomach jolted uncomfortably. ‘They will know sorrow’? That did _not_ sound good. 

Oblivious to Piper’s discomfiture, Merrill was pointing to a particular line in her charcoal rubbing. “And here in the inscription, there’s a reference to a–”

“Wait a minute,” Fenris interrupted. “‘They will know sorrow’? That is what the voice says?” He put down his whetstone. “The voice that lured us here and is pulling us around in this cursed forest: it said ‘they will know sorrow’?”

His tone grew increasingly sharp and incredulous as he went on, and Merrill frowned. “Yes, Fenris, that’s what I said,” she replied. “And as for who the ‘she’ might be, I think–”

Fenris cut her off again. “You were aware of this premonition, and still you brought us here?” 

Merrill folded her arms. “Why are you getting so angry? I thought you didn’t believe in the Elvhen gods.” 

Her tone was challenging and very slightly snide, and Piper grimaced and glanced cautiously at Fenris. Indeed, he was positively glowering at Merrill now. “I don’t, because they don’t exist!”

“They obviously do, and you know it,” Merrill retorted. “You can feel it. That’s why you’re scared.”

He rose to his feet and pointed at her accusingly. “What scares me is _your_ presumption that this cursed forest is safe, if you knew all along that that voice was an omen of ill fortune!”

Merrill pouted. “It’s not a sign of ill fortune. Look at all the evidence!” She started counting off her fingers. “That voice only talks to the elves. It helped us get to this beach without smashing the Lady Luck to pieces–”

“That was a near miss, and you know it,” Fenris snapped.

Merrill ignored him. “–and there’s a perfect statue of the Dread Wolf in the middle of the forest that no one except us has seen in ages? That’s proof!”

“Proof of what?” Fenris demanded.

“That this forest is protected by Fen’Harel!” Merrill exclaimed.

Fenris recoiled at this, and Piper stared at Merrill in total bemusement. The others all seemed equally nonplussed; no one spoke for a few long seconds.

Cullen was the first to speak. “Protected by, er, Fen’Harel?” he said faintly.

“I’m confused,” Rynne said. 

“I am too,” Dorian said. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but anything involving the Dread Wolf is a bad thing, isn’t it?”

Merrill waved impatiently in the direction of the camp they’d eradicated. “For those humans, yes, but not for us. We’re safe and protected because Fen’Harel is guiding us!” She poked her parchment. “It says right here: _Fen’Harel ma ghilana_. ‘Fen’Harel guide you’, and that’s what he’s been doing!”

“Shut your mouth,” Fenris snarled.

Merrill gasped, and Piper shot him a forbidding look. “ _Fenris,_ ” she said warningly. 

Fenris ignored her and gestured angrily at Merrill. “You knew this forest was a trap. A – a cesspool of danger thrumming in the air and straight into our ears. And you led us here.” 

“It is not dangerous!” Merrill insisted. “We’re protected!”

“And what about Hawke?” Fenris yelled. “And Cullen and Dorian?”

“Thank you, Fenris,” Dorian interjected. “I knew you cared.”

Fenris ignored him as well and continued to glare at Merrill. “You claim that we are protected, but what about _them?_ ”

“They’re protected because they’re with us,” Merrill said impatiently.

“You don’t know that!” Fenris shouted.

Merrill folded her arms and lifted her chin. “You know what, Fenris? Fine. Don’t believe me. No one ever does. But I know I’m right.”

His face twisted with rage, and Piper held up a hand. “Fenris,” she said firmly.

He exhaled hard, then snatched one of the oil lanterns from the ground. He pointed at Merrill once more. “If any harm comes to them, it is _your_ fault,” he snarled. Then he began to stalk away. 

“Hey. Don’t go wandering off,” Piper barked.

“I need a minute alone,” he yelled, and he strode into the forest. 

Rynne rose to her feet, taking another lantern with her. “Well, that was invigorating,” she said brightly. “I don’t know about you, but Fenris yelling always gets my blood pumping.” She jerked her thumb in his direction. “I’ll just, er…”

Dorian grimaced. “Careful, Hawke. When he says he wants a moment alone, he means it.”

Rynne looked at him, and her face was uncharacteristically serious. “Not from me,” she said. “He doesn’t get to walk away from me.” She hurried into the dark after Fenris. 

Piper watched her go, then sighed and ran her hands through her hair. Then Cullen wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

Piper leaned into him, suddenly and violently grateful that he was there. He’d been rather quiet through all of this, and it wasn’t until now that Piper realized how much she was cherishing his quiet and solid presence at her side. 

“Piper,” Merrill said softly. “You believe me, don’t you? You believe the forest is safe?”

Piper gazed into Merrill’s big green eyes. She wanted to say yes; she wanted to believe that this forest was safe, because if it wasn’t – if there was danger here, to Rynne or Dorian or her beloved Golden Boy – then they’d have to turn around. Piper would have to return to the Lady Luck empty-handed, with nothing to show for the suffering she’d brought upon her crew. 

But Fenris’s words to Merrill were ringing in her ears. _If any harm comes to them, it is your fault_. He’d yelled this at Merrill, but Piper knew the truth: If any harm came to her human companions, it would be Piper’s fault, not Merrill’s. Piper had signed off on Merrill’s plan, and Piper was the captain of the Lady Luck. If any harm came to Cullen or Dorian or Rynne, it would be Piper’s fault. 

But the thought of going back to the Lady Luck with nothing to offer the rest of her crew – of not providing her crew with the lucrative bounty and luxurious lives they deserved, especially when a very promising-sounding ancient temple was looming in the forest somewhere not too far away… 

“Please, Piper,” Merrill pleaded. “Trust me. I know what I’m talking about.” 

Piper gazed at her for a moment longer. If she was honest, she didn’t have a great feeling about all of this. But she was Captain Piper Lavellan, and Captain Piper Lavellan didn’t balk in the face of danger. 

“Don’t worry, Merrill,” she said. “We’re moving forward with our little adventure.” 

Merrill smiled and clapped her hands, then went back to her translations. Dorian shuffled over to sit next to Merrill while she worked, and Piper pulled Cullen’s arm more securely around her neck and tried to focus on his comforting scent of spice and leather and sweat. 

Like Fenris, she wasn’t convinced that the mysterious voice was really the voice of Fen’Harel, or that they were quite as safe as Merrill believed. But all she could do was push forward and hope that things would turn out for the best. 

All she could do was keep making her own luck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Faerievalaon: YOU WERE SO CLOSE WITH YOUR TRANSLATION. Literally the only reason you weren't 100% perfect is because I couldn't find a word I was looking for in FenxShiral's elvhen lexicon. YOU'RE AMAZING. 
> 
> Come hang out with us on Tumblr, me hearties! I am [Pikapeppa,](https://pikapeppa.tumblr.com/) and my partner-in-crime and PARTNER TO MY SOUL is [Schoute!](https://schoute.tumblr.com/) xoxxox


	32. Felan'asahngar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To everyone who left comments last week, SORRYSORRY I will reply as soon as I’m able!!! I love you all!! xoxo
> 
> A talky chapter this week, to wind down a bit from last week's excitement!

###  FENRIS 

Fenris was ten paces away from the camp when he realized he shouldn’t be stomping so noisily through the ferns. The more noise he made, the more likely he was to attract enemy attention, and then Hawke would be in even greater danger than she already was.

Though if he was worried about making noise, he supposed he shouldn’t have been shouting at Merrill. 

He slowed to a stop and dragged a hand through his hair. Merrill was just so _infuriating._ Fenris was appalled that she was prioritizing the thrill of discovery over the safety of the crew. But he supposed he should expect nothing less from someone who had left her clan behind for the sake of her search for elven relics. 

That was the real reason that Merrill was so blasé about the potential danger here: she had nothing to lose in the course of this ill-advised venture. Fenris, on the other hand, could lose the person who mattered to him the most. He had everything to lose from this cursed quest.

So did Piper, for that matter. Fenris could only imagine the wrath she would bring if any harm came to Cullen. But Piper trusted Merrill too much. Despite Piper’s incessant playful insults to the crew, Fenris knew she had the utmost confidence in the competence of everyone on the ship. And in Merrill’s case, that was a problem. 

Fenris didn’t care what Merrill said; she couldn’t know for certain that the forest was safe for Hawke and the other humans — or even for herself and Fenris and Piper, for that matter. And yet she refused to entertain the possibility that she was wrong. 

“Fenris?” 

He whipped around. Hawke was picking her way through the foliage with a lantern in hand and a smile on her face.

He rushed over to her. “What are you doing?” he demanded. “You can’t be wandering around on your own.” 

“Why not? You are,” she said archly. “Besides, we’ve hardly wandered off. The others can still hear us talking if they listen hard. Which, let’s be honest, they probably are.”

“We are not,” Dorian yelled from the camp.

Fenris curled his lip, and Hawke laughed. “Come on,” she said, and she took his hand and pulled him deeper into the forest. 

When they were far enough away from the others that they wouldn’t be overheard, Hawke came to a stop and soothingly stroked his arm. “What’s wrong?” 

“What’s wrong?” he repeated incredulously. He gestured angrily at their camp. “Merrill waits until we are deep in the heart of this forest before revealing that it was an omen of danger that led us here, and you ask what’s _wrong?_ ”

Hawke pulled a little face. “All right, touché. But nothing bad has happened yet.”

“Just because nothing bad has happened yet doesn’t mean it won’t,” Fenris retorted.

“But that’s like everything in life, isn’t it?” she said. “You can’t just sit around doing nothing in case bad things could happen. Maybe nothing bad will happen to you, but nothing good will happen either.”

“I am well aware of that,” he snarled. 

“All right,” she said cautiously. “Then why–” She broke off and slapped a hand over her mouth. “Oh shit, Fenris, I didn’t mean just _you_.” She reached out and grabbed his hand. “I meant in general, not just you. And I mean, I’m the same, right? I could have stayed in Kirkwall and done nothing. And maybe nothing bad would have – well, there was that whole engagement thing…” She awkwardly tugged her ear, then waved her hand dismissively. “Anyway, my point is that if I hadn’t run away from Kirkwall, I wouldn’t have joined the Lady Luck. And sure, joining the Lady Luck could have gone terribly, but it didn’t. Instead of bad things happening, the best thing happened instead.”

“And what’s that?” he said grumpily.

“I found you, of course.” She smiled and tilted her head. “You might be scowling at me now, but I like your scowl far more than any smile I ever saw in Kirkwall.”

He gazed at her lovely face. She looked so content and hopeful, and here he was snarling at her when his ire wasn’t even her fault… 

A mixture of affection and guilt prodded his heart. He sighed and finally squeezed her hand. “So you truly think this venture is worth pursuing, despite this warning about ‘knowing sorrow’?” he asked.

She shrugged. “I think we don’t know enough to say it’s _not_ worth pursuing. I mean, Merrill didn’t even say who that warning is about. Maybe the people who are going to ‘know sorrow’ are the rude ones who step on critters and try to cut down the trees. We haven’t done any of that.” She looked up at the forest canopy and did a curtsy. “Thank you for having us, by the way, O Mysterious Forest.”

Her tone was polite, but the curl of her lips was cheeky. Fenris huffed and folded his arms. “The forest can’t hear you.”

“I don’t know, Fenris. Maybe Fen’Harel is watching,” she said. She lowered her voice and took a step closer to him. “We should go have ritual sex in front of his monument. He sounds like the sort of god who’d appreciate that kind of hedonistic tribute.”

Fenris huffed again. “Truly, Hawke, you are an idiot,” he said. He pinched her waist, and she squeaked and slapped his hand. 

“Only for you, Fenris,” she giggled. “Only for you.”

He smiled at her, then idly rubbed the red ribbon on his wrist before giving her a sideways look. “So I take it you don’t believe the voice is Fen’Harel, then.”

“I honestly have no idea,” she said cheerfully. “That would be a lark if it was, though, wouldn’t it? Can you imagine if an elven god was real? The Chantry would shit themselves.” She snickered, then blinked at him. “Why do you ask? You don’t think it’s Fen’Harel, do you?”

“No,” he said. But even as he said it, his belly started to writhe with uncertainty. 

Hawke tilted her head, and he sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “It’s…” He swallowed hard. “This voice. This… odd feeling of being led somewhere by a force beyond my control. I don’t like it, Hawke.”

Her expression softened, and she took a step closer to him and stroked his forearm. “Don’t think of it like it’s controlling you,” she suggested. “Think of it like… like a sixth sense. An extra sense that lets you know something that we humans don’t! I kind of wish I could hear it. I’m so curious what it sounds like.” Her eyes widened suddenly, and she winced. “Maker’s balls. Is that an awful thing to say? I know you wish you didn’t hear it at all–” 

“How are you so optimistic about all of this?” he interrupted. 

Her expression grew cautious, and he shook his head slightly. “I am not angry,” he assured her. “I am…” He broke off and frowned at her curiously. “You are genuinely not worried about the ominous nature of any of this?” 

She shrugged and tucked her hands in her pockets. “I don’t know, I just… I don’t see a reason to assume the worst. No point worrying if we don’t know if there’s anything to worry about. I mean, imagine Merrill is right and everything is fine, and you spent all that time brooding for no reason.”

He grunted. “I don’t brood.”

She chuckled. “Worrying in a very handsome manner, then,” she said, and she gently pinched his chin. “Let’s just go with the flow. We’ll be like a river and go where the path takes us. Or this mystery voice, as it were.”

Fenris studied her in silence for a moment. Now that Hawke had mentioned it, she really was rather like a river, but not for the reason she thought. Rivers did take the path of least resistance, certainly, but a river could also eat its way through even the hardest stone, gradually but patiently carving its own path and leaving an indelible mark behind. 

If Hawke was a river, then… then Fenris was the stone. He knew he could be inflexible and unyielding, yet here Hawke was, bleeding through his boundaries bit by bit and carving herself permanently on his heart.

He sighed and pulled her close. “Your enthusiasm is infuriating,” he said fondly. 

She grinned and slid her arms around his waist. “Thank you. I try.” Then she perked up. “Maybe next time we run into some more enemies, I can even try to fight them!” 

He raised an eyebrow at her non-sequitur. “If we run into more enemies, I would hope you would fight them,” he said slowly. 

Her smile melted slightly with surprise. “Am I allowed to fight them?”

He frowned. What sort of comment was that? “Of course,” he asked. “You _should_ fight them. Why else have I been training you to defend yourself?”

She peered at him carefully, almost as though she didn’t believe him, and Fenris frowned more deeply at her odd expression. Then she smiled brightly. “Maybe because you like practice-fighting as foreplay? I know how much you like pinning me to the floor before you fuck me…” She pressed her pelvis closer to his. 

His body flared with interest, but he forced himself to ignore it. Why was she behaving so oddly? 

“What is this about?” he asked.

She laughed lightly. “Nothing, nothing! Let’s go back to the others before Dorian and Piper drink all the rum.” She released him and took a step back, but Fenris grabbed her hand before she could move away. Her tone might be cheerful, but she wasn’t looking at him – a sure sign that she was upset about something. 

He pulled her close once more. “Hawke. What is this really about?” 

She dropped her gaze and nibbled her lower lip, then finally met his eyes. “Why didn’t you let me sneak up on the pirate camp?”

_Ah._ He wilted slightly as she went on. “Did you think I couldn’t do it?” she asked. “That I’d ruin the ambush?”

“No,” he said. “That’s not why.”

“Are you sure?” she said. “You were pretty adamant that I shouldn’t do it.”

“It is not because I doubt your skill,” he insisted. “Your combat abilities have been improving. You know this. Besides, a stealth kill is technically simpler than killing someone who is attacking you.”

“Then why didn’t you let me try?” she said plaintively. 

He sighed and dragged a hand through his hair. “A stealth kill is… different from killing someone who attacked you first. It is not just a matter of technique. It is the knowledge that _you_ are the attacker this time.” He gazed at her seriously. “When you kill someone in cold blood, you aren’t defending yourself. You aren’t blameless. _You_ are the murderer. I wanted to spare you that.” 

“But… but we _were_ defending ourselves,” Hawke said softly. “They would have killed us if they had found us first.”

“I know that. I…” He sighed. “Perhaps it was misguided. I just…” He ran a hand through his hair again, then dropped his hand to his side. 

She gently squeezed his arm. “I’m going to have to do it eventually. Especially if there are more strange pirates wandering around in this forest.”

“I know, Hawke,” he said testily. “I just wanted…” He trailed off. The truth was that he didn’t want Hawke to grow accustomed to killing. Fenris’s life as a fighter and a dealer of death was not something he would have chosen for himself, and it was a life he didn’t want for her. 

“You are not a murderer,” he said quietly. “Not yet. I wanted you to keep that for a little longer.”

Her eyes widened. “Is that what you think you are? You and the rest of the crew?”

He dropped her gaze. He couldn’t speak for the rest of the crew, but he himself… He knew what he had done in the lyrium mines in Tevinter. 

“These unprovoked kills are… corrupting,” he said. “I don’t want you to be hardened by this.”

She suddenly cupped his face in her hands. “You are not corrupted,” she said fiercely. “You’re not corrupted or spoiled or ruined or any of those things, all right? And I won’t be either. It’s like you said when I joined the Lady Luck: everyone has to know how to kill. It’s a necessary part of pirate life. But it won’t corrupt me, and it hasn’t corrupted you either.” 

His throat felt thick. He took a deep breath and met her eyes. “I didn’t mean to make you question your skill,” he said quietly. “That wasn’t my… Hawke, I…”

“It’s all right,” she said. She stroked his cheek, then shot him a cheeky smile. “I was worried you thought I was useless, but as long as—” 

He clasped her neck and cut her off with a hard kiss, then pressed his forehead to hers. “You are not useless,” he told her fiercely. “You’re… you are indispensable.”

She let out a breathless little laugh. “I don’t know about that. The Lady Luck could certainly get along without me.”

He shook his head roughly. “I don’t mean the Lady Luck. I mean…” He broke off and let out a slow exhale. In the space of the few short months that he and Hawke had known each other, everything had changed. Fenris no longer moved mindlessly from day to day in a rote and static manner. Because of Hawke, he was happier, less lonely, less angry. Every day held something new and interesting and amusing because he was seeing it through Hawke’s curious eyes. His life was irrevocably changed, heightened and shaped by Hawke’s arrival, and now that she was here, he couldn’t imagine living any other way.

The thick feeling in his throat was swelling, warming his chest and filling his ribs with a heated wave of emotion that was rising to his tongue, and he opened his mouth to set it free before his long-held inhibitions could get the best of him. 

“Nothing could be worse than the thought of living without you,” he blurted.

Her mouth popped open in surprise, and Fenris waited tensely for her to reply. A heartbeat later, a smile burst across her face. 

She hiccupped suddenly, and a tear ran down her cheek. “Oh Maker,” she said, and she hastily wiped her face. “Now you’ve done it. My eyes are going to get all puffy and hideous–”

He exhaled in relief. “Shut up, Hawke,” he said, and he kissed her again. 

She twined her arms around his neck as he pulled her tight against his chest, and for a sweet, suspended moment of bliss, he sank wholeheartedly into the plumpness of her lips and the delicious taste of her tongue.

Then Dorian’s jovial voice yelled out from their little camp. “Fenris? Hawke? You two had better not have gotten eaten by wolves or some such horror.”

Fenris growled in annoyance, and Hawke laughed brightly and kissed his cheek. “Shall we go back to the others and assuage their concerns about our being eaten?” she murmured. 

“If we must,” he grumbled.

She chuckled and gently pinched his chin. “So grumpy, you are. Lucky for you that I love your pout as much as your smile.”

He shot her a chiding smirk, and they slowly made their way back to the camp. 

Dorian was sitting beside Merrill, who was still working on her charcoal rubbing from the wolf monument. Fenris raised an eyebrow at Dorian. “Where are Cullen and Piper?”

“Gone to fill our waterskins, or so they say.” Dorian stroked his mustache thoughtfully. “It’s my personal belief that the Captain’s real intention is to lure Cullen into swimming naked in the nearest body of water, but that’s just my thought.”

Hawke snickered. “I would bet that you’re right if I had any coin to bet.”

Dorian smirked at her. “And what about you, my dear Hawke? Did you enjoy your romantic stroll through the haunted forest?”

“Dorian, I told you,” Merrill said vaguely. “The forest is not haunted.”

Hawke clasped her hands dramatically. “Oh, it was lovely, thank you for asking! Ghosts serenaded us with a romantic ballad while we kissed beneath the moon…”

Dorian tutted. “Now that’s just completely untrue. You can’t see the moon through these leaves.”

Hawke winked at him, then took Fenris’s hand and led him over to their bedrolls, which they had laid out earlier that evening on a nearby patch of moss and grass. Hawke immediately settled down with a yawn, but Fenris seated himself cross-legged on his bedroll and reached for his whetstone. 

He began to sharpen his dagger with brisk, careful strokes. A moment later, Hawke sat up on one elbow. “You’re not tired?”

He glanced at her, then tilted his head subtly at Merrill and Dorian. “I can’t sleep like this,” he said quietly. In truth, however, the problem was not only the presence of other people. Now that Fenris knew the unsettling dream voice was linked somehow to the forest, he was reluctant to allow it to infiltrate his sleeping mind. 

Hawke’s eyebrows rose in sympathy, and Fenris shook his head. “Don’t concern yourself. I will keep guard.”

“But Dorian is keeping guard,” Hawke said softly. “You should get some rest.”

He gave her a flat look, but she wasn’t looking at him; she was inspecting their surroundings with a thoughtful look on her face. A moment later, she smiled at him. 

“Come on,” she said. “I have an idea.” She stood up and gestured for him to get off of his bedroll.

Somewhat reluctantly, he followed her over to a nearby fallen moss-covered tree. She arranged the bedrolls alongside the fallen tree, then sat with her back resting against the trunk. 

She patted the space between her legs and smiled up at him. “Come sit here.”

Fenris glanced self-consciously at Dorian and Merrill, but they were talking animatedly and ignoring him and Hawke. Somewhat reassured by their lack of attention, he gingerly sat between Hawke’s legs. 

She pulled his shoulders. “Get cozy,” she urged. “Come on, loosen up that lovely lanky body of yours and make yourself comfortable.” 

He scoffed, then settled back against her chest and stretched his legs out. “Fine. Now what?” 

She wrapped her arms around his shoulders. “Now I hug you until you fall asleep,” she said brightly. She tucked some of his hair behind his ear and kissed his temple. “You threw away that flower I gave you, hmm?”

He glanced over his shoulder at her. “Why do you say that?”

“You’re not wearing it,” she said.

“That doesn’t mean I threw it away. It’s in my pouch.”

She barked out a surprised little laugh. “You’re serious? I’m… I didn’t really expect you to keep it.” 

He frowned. “Why wouldn’t I keep it? You gave it to me.”

Hawke was silent for a moment. Then she hugged him tightly and kissed his cheek. “I love you,” she whispered. “And because I love you so much, I’m going to put you to sleep.”

Her affectionate words made his heart flip, just as they always did. He smoothed his palm along her forearm. “You can try,” he said. “I don’t think you will have much success.”

She chuckled softly. “Ever the pessimist, Fenris.” Very quietly, she started to sing.

_When we arrive, sons and daughters_  
_We'll make our homes on the water_  
_We'll build our walls of aluminum_  
_We'll fill our mouths with cinnamon now_

A shiver of warmth ran down his neck. Her voice was breathy and quiet but just as sweet as he remembered from that night at the Hanged Man in Rialto. Her whole body was like a warm embrace, her arms around his neck and her thighs cradling his hips, and Fenris closed his eyes to better focus on the clarity of her voice flowing into his ear.

_These currents pull us 'cross the border_  
_Steady your boats, arms to shoulder_  
_'Til tides all pull our hull aground_  
_Making this calm harbour our home_

He let out a long, heavy sigh. The last dregs of his anger and uncertainty were finally leaving him, drifting from his belly and his lungs and out through his mouth. 

He settled his head back against collarbone, and she chuckled softly. “Are you cozy yet?” she whispered.

“Yes,” he murmured. “Keep singing. Please.” 

She kissed his temple once more, and Fenris could hear the smile in her voice as she continued to sing the simple repeating melody. He wouldn’t be able to sleep; of that he was certain. But it was nice to be able to relax after the frustration of his argument with Merrill. 

It was the last thought he remembered before he drifted off to sleep.

###  CULLEN 

Dorian pointed to Merrill’s parchment. “So what you’re saying is that this particular word here can be written in… what, at least three different ways?”

“Yes,” Merrill said excitedly. “It could be written with just this glyph, which represents the word ‘tree’. Or with these two glyphs, which mean ‘tall plant’. Or these four glyphs, which are the sounds that make up the word ‘tree’ in elvhen, which is ‘ _adahl_ ’.” She beamed at Dorian. “That’s what makes ancient Elvhen such a fascinating language to study! The written language isn’t what’s spoken by the Dalish, and some Dalish clans speak different dialects that are missing words or have words that other clans don’t have, and even the most thorough studies of ancient Elvhen haven’t deciphered the meaning of every single…” She trailed off and covered her mouth. “Oh Dorian, I’m so sorry. I’m babbling again.”

“How dare you apologize?” he exclaimed. “You know how much I love a good bookish ramble. Please, go on. Fascinate me further.”

Merrill beamed at him, then pointed to another character on her sheet of parchment. “See this whole phrase here – at least I think it’s a phrase, but perhaps it’s just two words, I can’t be sure. The point is, I can’t translate any of it. Isn’t that fascinating?”

Dorian raised an eyebrow. “I would call it frustrating, but to each her own.”

Merrill giggled, and Cullen listened with a combination of curiosity and bemusement as she continued to discuss her charcoal rubbing with Dorian. The work that Merrill was doing was quite foreign to Cullen; he had little facility with foreign languages, and although he was well-versed in deciphering legal documents and policies to pick the meaning out of the jargon, the idea of translating a nearly-undecipherable dead language seemed rather daunting. 

That wasn’t unlike everything else about this adventure, however. He was still feeling quite stunned by the idea that the elves in their group were able to hear or feel something that he and Dorian and Hawke were not at all privy to. The idea that their trail was being laid not by a map or compass, but by a voice in Piper and Merrill and Fenris’s heads that was coaxing them to Maker only knew where… 

Cullen rubbed his chin. He just wished that he understood what exactly the voice _was_. Merrill seemed so certain that it was the voice of this elven trickster god, but Fenris seemed equally adamant that it wasn’t, and Piper’s apparent lack of opinion was confusing Cullen even further.

If only they knew for certain. If they knew what the voice was or where it was leading them, then they could more easily plan their next moves. 

It was so _strange_ to have so little information to go on. It was also very strange to not have any men that he could send ahead to collect information and report back. Only now that they were in the middle of this foreign place was Cullen realizing just how different this foray was from any other mission he’d had with the navy. Cullen was used to giving orders and analyzing strategy and planning far in advance. He was not at all accustomed to flying by the seat of his pants like this.

It wasn’t necessarily the lack of plan that was worrying him, however. He’d been on the Lady Luck for long enough now to know that Piper having a plan was far more unusual than Piper following her instincts from one moment to the next. And he had known Piper for long enough to know that her confident claims about a gut instinct were usually spot-on. 

What worried him was that Piper was clearly having difficulty trusting her own gut. 

He glanced at her surreptitiously. She was curled against his side, and there was a small smile on her face as she listened to Dorian and Merrill chatting, but she’d been largely silent since Fenris and Hawke had walked away a few minutes ago. Piper would usually be right in the thick of Merrill and Dorian’s conversation, cracking jokes and teasing Dorian and complimenting Merrill for her hard work, but she was being unusually silent now. 

He brushed a lock of hair back from her face and kissed her forehead. “What’s on your mind?”

“Food,” she said promptly. “That fish stew they make at the Bed and the Bucket in Afsaana, specifically. You know when something you eat is so awful that it’s good?” She smiled up at him. “That’s what I’m thinking about.”

He studied her smile with a pang. That was obviously not all that was on her mind.

He managed a small smile nonetheless. “I can’t say I have ever had that feeling about anything I ate.”

She snorted a little laugh. “Clearly you’ve never been ravenous while roaring drunk before.”

He chuckled. “I haven’t, no. I don’t know if that’s an experience I’m particularly eager to have.”

“Probably for the best,” she said. “I have an iron stomach. I can eat anything. Can’t say the same for a delicate human like you, though.” She patted his knee comfortingly. 

He scoffed at her cheeky smirk. “‘Is that a challenge, Captain?”

“It certainly is, Golden Boy,” she said cheerfully. “Are you up for it?”

“I’ll consider it,” he said. Then he gathered his courage and boldly lowered his voice. “Before I agree to anything, I may need to know what the prize will be if I win.”

A broad and genuine grin lit her face, exactly as Cullen had hoped. She turned toward him and took his collar in her hands. “Prize, you say?” she said huskily. “What sort of _prize_ did you have in mind?”

Cullen’s blasted cheeks began to warm at her provocative tone, but it was worth it for Piper’s joyful laugh. Then Dorian shot them a resentful look. “Do you two mind taking your canoodling elsewhere? Some of us are trying to work and to keep guard against ghosts.”

Merrill tittered. “Oh Dorian, don’t worry about ghosts. The forest isn’t haunted.”

Piper grinned, but before she could reply, Cullen spoke up. “A walk might be a good idea, in fact,” he said to her. “Perhaps we should go fetch some water.” 

She raised her eyebrows slightly, but to his relief, she nodded. “All right,” she said, and she rose to her feet and started collecting everyone’s waterskins. 

“We’ll be back soon,” she said to Dorian and Merrill. “Don’t have too much fun without us.”

“Have fun without our intrepid leader?” Dorian said lazily. “Perish the thought.”

Piper playfully flicked his ear, then took Cullen’s hand and led him into the forest. She fell quiet again as they trod through the foliage, but her silence was less concerning to him now; since he and Piper were on their own, he was hoping she would be more willing to tell him what was really on her mind. 

After about a minute of walking, he heard the soft rush of water, and he and Piper came to a stop next to a small and gently-flowing stream that they’d passed earlier this afternoon. Piper released his hand and promptly stepped into the stream with a happy sigh, and Cullen smiled slightly as he crouched beside the stream and started filling the waterskins. 

She wiggled her toes, then slurped some water from her hands before plopping down on the edge of the stream beside him. “Well, now that you have me here, what do you plan to do with me?” she said with a sly little smirk.

He shot her a chiding smile, then corked the waterskin in his hand and reached for the next one. “Did I ever tell you how I decided to join the Lady Luck?” he said. 

Her salacious smile dropped into an expression of surprise. “No, you didn’t,” she said. Then her smile spread slowly across her face once more. “Cullen, are you going to tell me a story?”

He smiled as he capped the waterskin. “I’m going to try, though my storytelling ability is nowhere near as advanced as yours.”

She chuckled and nestled against his shoulder, and Cullen wrapped his arm around her. “The first thing you should know is that I began to consider joining your crew the very first time you asked me, even though you proposed it as a joke.”

She grinned at him. “Oh, Golden Boy. I always knew you had a wild streak.”

He chuckled wryly. “That is hardly true. In any case, I began to consider the idea. But I was preoccupied with the problem of extricating myself from my duties with the navy.” He glanced at her. “You are aware that joining the Kirkwall Navy is a lifelong commitment?”

Her smile faded somewhat. “I wasn’t, but I’m not surprised. Of course they’d want a lifelong hold over you.”

He winced at her bluntness, but really, she wasn’t wrong. He rubbed the back of his neck before going on. “As it was, I wasn’t sure how to escape that commitment without deserting the navy, and deserting was not something I wanted to do. I felt… stuck. I truly wasn’t certain how to get out of it.”

She frowned slightly. “But you resigned in the end.”

“I did, yes,” he said. “But resigning wasn’t my idea.”

Her eyebrows rose. “It wasn’t?”

“No. I…” He sighed. “You must understand, I… I had grown very accustomed to making decisions on my own this past year in particular. Aside from Rylen, I didn’t know who to trust. And I… well, you know that I prefer to follow the law.” He gave her a wry little smile. “I was so preoccupied with trying to solve the problem through lawful means that I couldn’t see a way around the problem on my own.”

Her frown deepened. Then, all at once, her face cleared into a grin. “Rylen,” she said.

Cullen returned her smile. “Yes,” he said. “Rylen suggested that I resign. I had briefly considered resigning before discarding the idea, thinking I wouldn’t meet the criteria, but he… well, the details aren’t important,” he said with a vague wave of the hand. “What matters is that because of him, I was able to make my case to Cassandra and free myself from the Kirkwall Navy without breaking the law.”

Piper chuckled and elbowed him gently. “What are you trying to say? That I owe Rylen a big enormous hug when we get back to the Lady Luck?”

“Well I – I suppose you do, yes.” Cullen cocked his head. “By the way, did you ever apologize to him for bashing him in the head with that jail cell door a few months ago?”

She grimaced and smacked her forehead. “Fuck, I didn’t. I completely forgot. Thanks for the reminder.”

Cullen huffed in amusement. “You’re welcome. But – er. The, er, the point I had hoped to make was that I… I felt trapped. I knew what I wanted, but I was… unable to find a way to achieve it. I had become too focused on retreading the same ideas.” He gave Piper a serious look. “I wish I had thought to speak to Rylen sooner,” he said softly. “It would have saved me several nights’ worth of worrying. It would have saved _you_ several nights of thinking that I wouldn’t join you.”

Piper’s forehead creased into a frown. She looked away from him and began to pick idly at the mossy ground. After a moment of increasingly tense silence, Cullen ran a gentle hand along the length of her arm. 

“Piper… what do you _really_ want to do?” he asked. 

She shrugged and smiled at him. “I want to find this temple, of course. Captain Mad Piper, discoverer of ancient temples and treasures! That’s what the crew will call me when we get back to the Lady Luck.” 

He didn’t smile back. “If your concern is making sure the crew is taken care of, there are other ways,” he said quietly. “We can think of something else. Together.”

Her smile slipped away, and she gave him a frank look. “Cullen, we’re here now. We’re marooned here until the sail can be repaired. Would you rather sit around doing nothing on the beach, or would you rather have an adventure?”

Her tone was slightly sharp now, to Cullen’s dismay. When he didn’t immediately reply, she sighed. “All right, fine, maybe you would prefer to sit on the beach. But that’s not going to happen, all right? We’re halfway to the temple already. I can feel it in my–” She broke off suddenly and looked away from him, and with a pang, Cullen realized what she was thinking about: that odd gut feeling from earlier, and the voice in the forest.

The silence hovered awkwardly between them for a moment. Then Cullen took her hand. “Are you worried about this… voice in the forest?” he asked.

She shot him a hard look. “Why are you asking me this again? Do you think I’m making a mistake?”

He gazed at her sadly. He hadn’t meant that at all, but the fact that her mind immediately jumped to that conclusion was rather telling.

“Do _you_ think you are making a mistake?” he said.

“No,” she said loudly. “I told you, I know what I’m doing. We’re getting to the temple, and we’re finding some valuable fucking loot. _Then_ we’ll leave this forest behind.” She took a deep breath, then gave him a slightly softer look. “And just for you, we won’t go through a storm. I promise.”

_What if there is no loot to be had?_ he thought worriedly. But Piper’s expression was closed, and he was afraid that if he pushed her any harder, she would shut him out entirely. 

He suppressed a sigh and bowed his head. “All right, Captain. I will hold you to that promise.” 

“Good,” she said. She started to braid the hair at her temple.

He watched her painfully for a moment before speaking. “Piper, there is one part of that story that I failed to mention.”

She shot him a quick glance and continued to braid her hair. “What’s that?” she said.

He gently took her hand once more. “I would have you joined you even if my application to resign had been denied.”

Her expression softened with surprise, and Cullen went on. “I am relieved that I was given permission to resign. But if I hadn’t, I would have joined you nonetheless.” 

She stared at him for a moment, then dropped her gaze to her lap. “You don’t have to say that…”

He tipped her chin up, forcing her to look him in the eye. “I don’t say this lightly,” he murmured. “You know how… how regimented I can be. But you showed me that what is right is not always the law. It is one of the reasons I wanted to join you instead of remaining in Kirkwall. Your sense of right and wrong is very clear, and I trust it completely. It is one of the things I love about you.”

Her expression softened even further, and she squeezed his hand in both of hers. “Cullen, I’m glad you left the navy lawfully,” she said. “I’m glad you did your duty by resigning. It’s… it was the proper thing to do. The right thing. You committed to the navy, and you did your best to meet that commitment, and…” She ran her hand through her hair and gave him a frank look. “I respect that, you know. I wouldn’t want you to change that just because you’re part of my crew.”

“I know,” he said softly. “That is another reason that I love you.”

She gazed at him for a long moment, and he hopefully returned her stare. Then she abruptly rose to her feet. “I’ll be right back,” she said, and she jogged into the forest.

Cullen waited by the stream for a couple of minutes. Then Piper returned with a flower in her hand.

Cullen eyed it curiously. It was the same flower that Merrill had cut for Hawke earlier today – the pink-and-yellow one that Merrill said represented good luck. 

Piper settled on her knees beside him and thrust the flower at him. “I want you to have this,” she said.

He blinked in surprise, but took the flower from her nonetheless. “A good luck charm?” he asked.

She waved her hand dismissively. “That’s just one part of it. It’s a Dalish custom. _Felan’asahngar_ are the flowers of fair fortune for couples. My father used to–” She broke off and pressed her lips together, then spoke again in a rush. “They’re included in Dalish marriage rites, and couples pick or purchase them on their wedding anniversaries and all that.”

He raised his eyebrows and regarded the blossom with new appreciation. “Merrill didn’t mention that,” he said. “Is it–”

She suddenly sidled onto his lap and clasped his face in her hands. “Cullen, I love you,” she announced. “And when this is done and we’re back on the Lady Luck, I want you to marry me.”

A jolt of surprise leapt in his belly. Marry her? Piper wanted him to marry her? She wanted him to be her husband? Did – did pirates even have husbands or wives? 

He gaped at her wordlessly. Her expression was absolutely serious, but her gaze was steady and warm, just as warm as her slender callused fingers stroking his neck. 

_She wants to marry me._ A rush of joy – and a little bit of disbelief – flooded his chest. He knew Piper loved him, of course he _knew_ , but with the strange and stressful events of the past couple of days, he’d been feeling… not _rejected_ , exactly. But perhaps a little bit wrong-footed, as though he’d been driving her away without quite meaning to. But now, to have her asking to marry him?

His heart was thrumming in his ears. He could feel his face lifting into a broad and goofy grin. An answering smile began to bloom across her face, but before she could speak, he threaded his fingers through her hair. 

“Are you sure about this?” he asked. “This is all very sudden. You don’t plan things, I know, but are you certain that this is what you want?” 

“Yes. I’m sure,” she said firmly. “I’m absolutely sure. I want you here with me, all the time. I… Look, I don’t _need_ anyone, all right?” she said with a hint of belligerence. “I don’t need anyone’s help. But Cullen, I _want_ you here. I’ve never… I’m… I’m just so fucking glad you’re here. And I want you with me for every adventure, ever.” She tugged the collar of his shirt and gave him a cheeky smile. “So what do you think? Do you want to be Captain Mad Piper’s husband?” 

Cullen stroked her hair. “I do,” he said softly. “With all my heart.”

She beamed at him and let out a joyful laugh, and his entire body thrilled at the beloved sound. The past two days had been so stressful, filled with unanticipated problems and strife and the worries that Piper continued to hold close to her chest. But to hear her laughing now, laughing as uninhibitedly as she usually did and being so happy at the idea of them getting married… 

A surge of happiness and wellbeing flooded his chest and pricked the backs of his eyes. Piper cupped his face in her palms and kissed him, and he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her tight against his body, savouring everything about this moment: her heated weight on his lap and the feeling of her fingers curving around the nape of his neck, and the smile that he could feel in her lips as she pressed them firmly to his. 

A blissful, heart-pounding moment later, she leaned away from him and took the flower from his hand. “Hold on to this, all right?” she murmured. “It’s good luck for us. Not that you need luck when you’re with me,” she added with a grin, “not since I make my own. But…” She shrugged and rubbed one of the petals between her fingers. “Ah, maybe it’s superstitious. But keep it safe, all right?”

“I will,” he assured her. He took the flower from her fingers and carefully tucked it into one of the pouches on his belt.

She smiled at him, and her smile widened even further when he smoothed his hand over her beautiful silver hair. He pulled her close and lifted his chin, and she graced his lips with another kiss. 

They sat twined in each other’s arms for a lazy, blissful time, lit only by the light of their oil lanterns reflecting off of the waves of her shimmering silver hair. Cullen listened to the burbling of the stream and the soft sound of Piper’s breath, and he relished the press and feel of her lips on his and her hands on his chest.

They didn’t have a plan. They didn’t know what tomorrow’s travels would bring or where exactly the forest’s mysterious call would bring them next. And Cullen knew that Piper was more troubled by that than she was willing to admit.

For now, though, he had her brilliant smile and her pliant body in his arms, and her promise of a life together tucked in the pouch at his waist. With every kiss she bestowed upon his scarred and smiling lips, Cullen made a silent promise in turn: that he would do everything he could to help her, no matter what this adventure brought their way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A SALTY SEA WEDDING, PERHAPS????? ❤️❤️❤️❤️
> 
> The song that Rynne sings to Fenris is ["Sons and Daughters" by the Decemberists.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E5H8DwJI0uA) And unless I'm told otherwise, I'm going to pretend that ancient Elvhen writing works like the Mayan writing system.
> 
>  
> 
> I am [Pikapeppa on Tumblr,](https://pikapeppa.tumblr.com/) and our divine creator and artist is [Schoute!](https://schoute.tumblr.com/) xoxo


	33. Fine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY NEW YARRRRRRR MATEYS!! We're back on our bullshit!! xoxo

###  RYNNE 

The forest was incredible.

They’d broken camp about half an hour ago, not long after dawn heralded the lilting rise of birdsong through the thickness of the leaves. The soft and heavy scent of damp soil and sun-kissed leaves filled Rynne’s lungs as she and the others followed Merrill’s trail. 

Merrill was still following the ineffable voice that only she, Piper, and Fenris could hear, and Rynne was only too happy to trail along in her wake. Since she didn’t have to pay attention to where they were going, she could enjoy the bursting blooms and the wild sounds of insects and birds as she picked her way through the foliage at Fenris’s side. 

Part of her mind still couldn’t quite believe that their path was being laid out by a strange elven sixth sense. It was like something straight out of the stories that she’d been devouring since she was a child. It was fascinating and marvelous and totally unexpected, and if someone had told her a few months ago that she would be wandering barefoot through a pristine untouched forest with a handful of pirates — herself being a pirate too! — and following a voice that only her elven companions could hear, she would have told them to bugger off and go bother some other gullible noble idiot with fanciful tales.

It was also somewhat unnerving. 

She quickly shunted the worried little thought aside. Of course it was unnerving; it was an unknown situation, and everything strange and unknown was bound to be a little unnerving. But Rynne was determined to approach this odd situation with the same open-armed zeal that she’d employed during every other adventure she’d had thus far. Her headfirst approach had yet to fail her; it was that same headfirst approach that had gotten her out of Kirkwall, after all. And sure, maybe there was that brief hiccup when throwing herself headfirst at Fenris hadn’t worked out the way she’d hoped, but that had fixed itself in time. 

There was also that terrifying moment in the infirmary two days ago when she’d been cornered by that pirate and she’d genuinely thought she might die. But she’d launched herself headfirst into that fight with all the defensive and dirty tactics that Fenris had taught her, and that had ended up fine as well. 

_Everything ends up fine if you try hard enough and give it enough time,_ she reminded herself. And she was sure this forest-y quest would be no different. There was no place for worrying or being unnerved here, not when there was an exciting mystery beckoning them forth. 

Besides, Fenris was worried enough for the both of them. In Rynne’s opinion, it was far more productive to bounce wholeheartedly into this adventure so that _he_ might enjoy himself a bit as well. 

She glanced up at him. His face was creased in a frown, and his hand was hovering vigilantly over the handle of his scimitar. 

Rynne reached over and took his hand. He looked down at her, and she beamed at him.

He raised one eyebrow. “What?” he said.

“Nothing,” she chirped. “I’m just having a nice time.” 

A hint of a smile lifted his lips. “Of course you are,” he said sardonically.

She poked him playfully in the arm. “What’s _that_ dig supposed to mean?”

He shrugged. “You take pleasure in the mundane. That is all I meant.”

Rynne laughed. “My father has this tongue-in-cheek saying: ‘simple pleasures for simple minds’. You sound just like him right now.”

Fenris scoffed. “I’m uncertain if I should be flattered or concerned to be compared to your father.”

“In this case, flattered,” Rynne assured him. “He might not be around much, but he’s full of pithy pearls of wisdom, that’s for certain.”

“So you’re saying I speak in platitudes and clichés?” Fenris said. Despite his sarcastic tone, his lips were curled in the most kissable smirk, and Rynne grinned at him. 

“Well, _you’re_ saying I’m easily amused,” she retorted.

“You are,” Fenris said. “And I mean that nicely. Taking pleasure in small things is… enviable. It’s a good trait. I’m…” He trailed off for a moment, then met her eye once more. “It is good to see you enjoying yourself,” he finally said.

“Of course I’m enjoying myself,” she said. “I’m walking with you.” She gave him a winning smile.

He snorted softly. “ _Kaffas,_ Hawke, you will make me blush.”

“Oh good!” she chirped. “That’s my goal in life, you know. To make those handsome cheeks of yours turn red.”

He chuckled and shook his head, and Rynne waited happily for his witty retort. But before he could speak, Cullen joined them.

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” he said with a nod of greeting. “But I was hoping for your counsel, Fenris.”

“You don’t want to speak to me?” Rynne said. She widened her eyes dramatically and held one hand to her bosom. “I’m awfully offended.”

Cullen gave her a smile and a tiny half-bow. “My apologies, Hawke. I will come up with something to ask your advice on later, if you like.”

Rynne playfully fanned herself. “How very kind of you, Ser Rutherford. I’ll look forward to advising you as best I can.” She did a mockingly formal curtsy, despite her lack of skirts, then fondly pinched Fenris’s chin before skipping forward to join Piper, who was walking a few steps behind Merrill and Dorian.

She elbowed Piper. “You and Cullen didn’t come back to the camp before I fell asleep. What were you up to out in the forest for that long?” She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively.

Piper grinned at her. “Wouldn’t you like to know, you filthy-minded wench?”

“I would, I would!” Rynne said eagerly. “Tell me every sordid detail. Quickly, before Cullen comes back and his face goes up in flames.” 

Piper laughed, but to Rynne’s surprise, her cheeks were turning slightly pink. It wasn’t like Piper to blush over a little lewd back-and-forth. What could she possibly be blushing about…? 

Rynne’s eyes went wide. “Oh Maker,” she breathed. “You’re not–” She broke off and lowered her voice. “Are you pregnant?”

“What?” Piper exclaimed. “No! Why would you ask that?”

“Because you’re blushing,” Rynne said matter-of-factly. “Noble ladies always do the whole blushing pretend-to-be-coy thing when they tell everyone that they’re ‘in the family way’.” She rolled her eyes. “As though we’re all supposed to be titillated because a baby makes it clear that she and her husband have had sex. It’s all very boring if you ask me.”

Piper snorted. “Well, I’m no noble lady. And I’m definitely not pregnant.”

“Well then?” Rynne said curiously. “What’s the blushing about?”

Piper scoffed and shoved her playfully. “You’re a fucking nosy one, you know that?”

To Rynne’s amusement, Piper’s cheeks were turning even pinker. Rynne laughed and linked her arm with Piper’s. “I am, it’s true,” she said cheerfully. “But only because you’re actually interesting. I never had interesting friends before. Please, Piper,” she batted her eyelashes, “tell me your gossip so I can _ooh_ and _ahh_ and pretend I’m going to tell everyone whilst actually telling no one at all.” 

Piper rolled her eyes, but she was grinning still. “Fine, fine,” she said. She rubbed her nose, then gave Rynne a secretive little smile. “I asked Cullen to marry me last night, and he said yes.”

“ _What?_ ” Rynne shrieked.

Piper burst out laughing, and Rynne clapped her hands over her mouth, but it was too late; Fenris was instantly at her side, and everyone else had come to a dead stop at the sound of Rynne’s shriek. 

“What’s wrong?” Cullen demanded. “Are you all right?”

“Yes, what’s happened?” Dorian said. “I do hope I’m not being left out of anything fun.”

Rynne turned to Piper with wide eyes. “I’m so sorry,” she gasped. “I just – oh, Piper, I’m so–!” She broke off and did an excited little hop. “I’m so happy for you! Oh, but you didn’t want to…” She covered her mouth again to stop her chatty tongue from spilling Piper’s news, but Piper was still laughing. 

She waved her hand dismissively. “It’s fine, it’s not like it’s a secret. We’ll tell the whole crew anyway once we get back to the ship.”

“Oh,” Cullen said in a softer tone. “You’re talking about our news?” He smiled goofily at Piper, who was grinning back at him very proudly indeed, and Rynne couldn’t help herself: she flung herself at Cullen and hugged him.

“Congratulations!” she squealed, and she hugged Piper as well. “I’m so happy for you both! I’ve never seen a pirate wedding before! This is going to be so exciting!”

“A wedding?” Merrill gasped. “You’re going to be married? Oh my, how sweet! I’ll make traditional _saotabradh_ for you, Piper, but we might have to go back to Rialto so I can get some fine chocolate! And I’ll need pistachios too, the good kind from Rivain, oh–”

Dorian chuckled and quirked an eyebrow at Cullen. “Are you sure you know quite what you’re doing, marrying Captain Mad Piper? It’s rather like tying oneself to a wild Fereldan horse: thrilling and entertaining, with a high chance of personal injury.” 

Piper laughed and flicked his ear. “Says the man who basically invited himself to join my ship one day.”

Dorian delicately dusted off his sleeve. “Precisely. That’s how I know what I’m talking about.”

Cullen chuckled. “I appreciate the concern, but there’s no need. I’m… truly, I am thrilled.” He smiled at Piper again. “I… yes, thrilled really is the word.”

Piper beamed at him, and Rynne clasped her hands together with delight. “Oh Cullen, that is just so fucking sweet. You should write your own vows!”

His smile fell into a look of surprise. “Ah. Vows. Yes, I had wondered – Piper, who will be actually, er, marrying us?”

She planted her hands on her hips. “I’m the captain,” she announced. “ _I_ can declare us married.”

“That’s not how that works,” Fenris said dryly.

Piper smirked at him. “Are _you_ volunteering to marry us, then?”

He folded his arms. “I believe it will be Varric who has that dubious honour, given that he’s the other first mate.”

Piper snorted with laughter and punched him in the arm. “‘Dubious honour’, my ass. Come on, you gossip-hounds, let’s get back to this trail of ours.” She pinched Merrill’s cheek playfully. “Lead the way, you wily wayfinder.”

“Of course, Captain!” Merrill chirped. “Oh, but I’ll have to start thinking about what other dishes to serve for your wedding. We’re running low on salt fish, but we can pick up more of that in Rialto too, and I wonder if I can get my hands on some deep mushroom? If you prepare it carefully, it makes the most wonderful stew.”

Dorian chuckled. “You might as well get some of those Orlesian cakes with deep mushroom and anise while you’re at it. You know the ones called _la misère exquise_?” 

Merrill gave him an affronted look. “‘The exquisite misery’? Why would we want those at Piper and Cullen’s wedding?”

“Because that’s how we’ll all be feeling when our dear Cullen makes the Captain caterwaul on their wedding night,” Dorian drawled. “I for one shall be eating cakes in my cabin while covering my ears, I assure you.”

Rynne guffawed while Cullen awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck, and Piper pinched Dorian’s gold-studded ear. “No one asked you to listen in, you pervert.”

“I assure you I’ll have very little choice in the matter,” Dorian said loftily. “You can be incredibly vocal for such a small elf. Good work, by the way,” he added to Cullen.

Cullen cleared his throat. “I, er, am not sure how to respond to this.”

“Say thank you,” Rynne said gleefully. “It sounds like quite a compliment to me.” She elbowed Piper, who smiled very smugly indeed.

“No, don’t thank him,” Fenris put in. “You will only encourage him to taunt you further.”

“Oh please,” Dorian scoffed. “I hardly need encouraging. You, for example, also seem to be doing a decent job with our fair lady Hawke, based on the sounds that come from _your_ quarters.”

Rynne gasped in offense. “‘Decent’?” she exclaimed. “I’ll have you know that Fenris–”

“Look at that,” Fenris said loudly. “Dorian just stepped into another pile of shit.”

Dorian flinched, bumping into Merrill in the process. “Where?” he squawked. 

“Ah, my mistake,” Fenris said casually. “It was just some regular dirt.”

Rynne and Piper cackled, and Dorian scowled. “Very funny, Fenris. _Kaffas_.”

“Not this time, no,” he said. “Best watch your step, though.”

Dorian wrinkled his nose in disdain, and Piper playfully bumped him with her hip. “Oh Dorian, just take off your fucking boots already.” 

“And step barefoot into a pile of unidentifiable animal feces?” Dorian retorted. “No thank you.”

“Would it help if we identify the droppings first?” Merrill asked. “Because I can help with that.”

They all looked at her, and she smiled innocently in return. Dorian’s jaw dropped. “Merrill, are you making fun of me?” he asked incredulously.

Merrill giggled, and Piper laughed harder still while Cullen began to laugh as well. They continued to joke and tease each other as they wandered through the forest, and Rynne twined her fingers with Fenris’s.

“Aren’t you happy for Piper and Cullen?” she asked quietly.

He gave her a surprised look. “I am. Why do you ask that?”

She opened her mouth to reply, then paused. It was on the tip of her tongue to remark that his reaction to Piper and Cullen’s engagement was rather subdued, but it occurred to her now that his stoic response wasn’t unusual. Even when Fenris was amused, his smiles and laughter were quite muted. The only times he was really expressive was when he was angry or upset.

This was different with Rynne, of course. When she and Fenris were alone, he was far more demonstrative in his affections. He smiled more widely, and his hugs were tight and warm, and his laugh… Maker, the rare and treasured sound of his laugh was enough to make her melt every damned time. But even then, it was more common for him to reciprocate Rynne’s affectionate gestures than to initiate them. 

But Fenris and Piper were close in their own way, too. Rynne still remembered how she’d briefly envied their teasing camaraderie the first time she’d met them in the Lowtown market. Despite their obvious friendship, however, Fenris hadn’t even congratulated Piper on her engagement. And despite Rynne’s attempts to dismiss them, Anders’s words on the Lady Luck ran through her mind: _Fenris doesn’t talk. Even Piper doesn’t know his story. You're the only one he really talks to_. 

She hated to admit that Anders had a point, given how snarky he was about Fenris. And yet…

Fenris was gazing quizzically at her. Finally she shrugged. “No reason. Just checking,” she said.

“Hmm,” Fenris murmured. “I’m surprised _you’re_ so pleased for them, in fact.”

She looked at him in surprise. “Why?”

“Because I thought…” He paused for a moment, then gave her a serious look. “I had assumed you were opposed to marriage, given what almost happened to you.”

“Oh! Well, I think it’s awful to be _forced_ to marry someone,” she said. “Especially if that someone is thirty-odd years older than you with a reputation for mistreating his female servants. But two people who _want_ to get married? And who can actually do it and not get shunned by their families for marrying below their station or marrying the wrong type of person or any of that shit?” She gazed at him with wide eyes. “Fenris, this is something I’ve only ever read about in stories. It’s the stuff of fantasies, literally. And a _pirate_ wedding to boot? It’s going to be such fun!”

“You don’t even know what a pirate wedding will be like,” Fenris pointed out.

“I know it’s going to be nothing like the terrible stuffy weddings I’ve been to in Kirkwall,” she retorted. “That alone means it’s going to be fantastic. Besides, it’s Cullen and Piper! Whatever sort of wedding they have is going to be marvelous because they’re absolutely marvelous together.” 

Fenris shrugged. “I suppose.”

“Exactly,” Rynne said in satisfaction. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go pester the bride-to-be for details about what a pirate wedding looks like.” She grimaced. “Maker, I hope there are no heels or corsets involved.”

He huffed in amusement. “I would be shocked if there were.”

She grinned at him, then skipped back over to Piper, who was strolling hand-in-hand with Cullen. 

“So,” she said keenly. “How did you propose? Did Cullen burst into tears when you asked him? Tell me everything.”

Cullen gave her a chiding smile, and Piper grinned and ruffled her silvery cloud of hair. “Oh, you know, I was just looking at him with his shirt all half-opened and I thought to myself, ‘you know what would be nice? Having that fine body in my bed for the rest of my dastardly pirate life. Best make him marry me so he’ll get naked with me until the day I die.’” 

Cullen cleared his throat. “Excuse me, I, um. Why don’t I let you have this conversation on your own? I wasn’t finished, er, speaking to Fenris…” 

Piper and Rynne laughed as he fell back to join Fenris, and Rynne linked her arm companionably with Piper’s. “Really though, I’m so happy for you,” she said warmly. “You and Cullen have been like a fairytale since the moment we met.”

Piper grinned. “The lecherous pirate captain and the prim navy commander? I haven’t heard that fairytale before.”

Rynne chuckled. “Not that bit, maybe, but the way you look at him. And the way he looks at you!” She sighed dramatically and fanned herself. “I could tell how much you loved each other from that very first day.”

Piper scoffed. “What are you on about?”

“Remember when Cullen came to drag me back to Hightown?” Rynne said. “You saw him coming and you lit up like a lantern. And he took one look at you and his face went white because he was so worried you were going to be caught. It was so sweet, I thought my teeth would fall out.”

Piper scoffed again and poked her in the arm. “You’re such a romantic sap, you know that?”

Rynne laughed, but she noted fondly that the tips of Piper’s ears were turning pink again. Then Piper bumped her with her hip. “What about you and Fen, then? You were making eyes at him from the moment we met.”

“Oh, I know,” Rynne said with relish. “It wasn’t love at first sight because that’s nugshit, but it was definitely ‘he made my heart speed up from the second I looked at him and I want to know everything about him’ at first sight.”

Piper snorted a laugh. “That kind of sounds like love at first sight.”

Rynne suddenly perked up. “Actually, speaking of first sight – did you know that Fenris and I actually _had_ seen each other before that day in the market?”

Piper’s eyes widened. “What? When?”

“A few weeks before,” she said. “I was standing at the mouth of the market trying to find the balls to go in even though my handmaids and my guard were with me, and I saw Fenris. He looked at me, completely by chance I think, and… he was frowning,” she said thoughtfully. “But for a split second, his face just… relaxed.” She pressed her hand to her chest. “I swear, Piper, I stopped breathing for a moment.” 

Piper smiled broadly at her, and Rynne rolled her eyes in a self-deprecating way. “I’m making an idiot of myself, aren’t I? I sound like a girl from a romance novel.”

“Yes, you do,” Piper said.

They both burst into laughter, and Piper elbowed her. “Ah, I’m just picking on you. I’m happy for you, really. And for Fen. Fuck knows he deserves to be happy.”

Rynne squeezed her arm. “He’s happy for you and Cullen, too.”

“Oh, I know,” Piper said. “That’s why he’s not saying anything. If he wasn’t happy, I’d hear all about it.” She snickered.

Rynne smiled, but with a little pang in her chest. Piper’s words were an odd echo of her earlier thoughts. 

A moment later, Piper shot her a little sideways look. “Do you ever find it strange?” she asked.

“Do I find what strange?” Rynne said.

Piper shrugged. “Being, you know.” She jerked her head to indicate Fenris and Cullen, who were talking quietly behind them, then lowered her voice. “Being, um, in love.”

“Oh, it’s _extremely_ strange,” Rynne said earnestly. “I didn’t think I’d ever feel this way about anyone. Maker’s balls, I didn’t think I’d ever get the chance. I thought I’d end up as some old asshole’s breeding cow.”

Piper stared at her. “ _Fenedhis_. Well, that’s fucking grim.”

“I know,” Rynne said matter-of-factly. “And look where I am instead! I’ve ended up with Fenris. And he’s just…” 

_He’s everything,_ she thought. His intelligence, his snark, his anger and his tenderness… Maker’s balls, he was absolutely everything. His deep and thoughtful voice was the first thing she wanted to hear every morning, and the warm skin of his scarred and tattooed back was the last thing she wanted to feel before she fell asleep every night. 

_Nothing could be worse than the thought of living without you,_ he’d told her. And Rynne felt exactly the same way about him. 

She smiled at Piper. “I never imagined this. I have an active imagination, believe me, but I didn’t imagine this.”

Piper cleared her throat. “Yeah,” she said gruffly. “I know what you mean.”

 _I know you do,_ Rynne thought fondly. Piper’s face was half-hidden by her gorgeous wavy hair, but Rynne could still see her smile. It was the same sort of smile that Cullen had when he and Piper had announced their engagement. It was the same sort of smile Fenris wore when he looked at her every night as they lay curled together in his spartan bed. 

Rynne leaned in a little closer. “Did you ever feel this way about anyone before Cullen?”

“No,” Piper said immediately and very firmly. “Not even a little bit. That’s why I want to marry him.”

“That’s a great fucking reason to marry someone,” Rynne said softly.

Piper shot her a tiny smile. “I like to think so.”

Rynne beamed at her. Just as she was about to start asking about pirate weddings, however, Piper looked up suddenly.

Up ahead, Merrill came to a stop and also looked up. Rynne looked at them both with wide eyes. “What’s–?”

Piper held up a hand, and Rynne closed her mouth. She glanced back at Fenris, and her heart did a little flip of alarm: he had also stopped, and his face turned in the same direction as Piper’s and Merrill’s.

“Something’s happening,” Piper murmured vaguely. “It’s…”

“Look out!” Dorian barked. A second later, a group of strange pirates burst from the waist-high ferns and attacked them. 

Rynne squealed in alarm and whipped out her dagger. She dodged swiftly away from the grasping hands of a swarthy female pirate, who cried out in agony when Piper’s épée sank through her gut.

An instant later, Fenris was by her side. “I will guard your back,” he snarled.

“All right,” she panted. A skinny but furious-looking man was advancing on her with a large sword in hand, and Rynne swiftly slid around to his sword-bearing side, forcing him to circle sideways to face her. He swung at her a few times, but his aim was haphazard and careless, and Rynne evaded him quite easily. 

He lashed out and grabbed her wrist, but Rynne quickly twisted her arm, forcing her attacker’s shoulder down into an awkward position. Once he was distracted, she jammed her blade into his eye. He released her with a howl of pain, and she stabbed him in the neck.

Then someone slammed into her side, ploughing her to the ground and knocking the air from her lungs. She struggled to breathe, but her attacker was on top of her and his meaty hand was shoving her head down and into the ground… 

Her heart was a panicked tattoo in her ears. Dirt and leaves were all she could see. Unable to see her attacker properly, she stabbed wildly backwards with her dagger, and a little bit of satisfaction diluted her panic when the blade grazed solid flesh. 

All at once, she was free. She gasped in a breath and scrambled onto her hands and knees. Fenris was crouched in front of her with his scimitar drawn, and her attacker was dead at his feet.

She quickly took stock of the others as she shakily shoved herself upright. Cullen and Piper were fighting back-to-back and taking on three pirates at once, and Dorian was driving his opponent back with a gilded dagger in each hand. As Rynne watched, Merrill darted toward her attacker and beneath his beefy arm before slashing a vicious gash across his belly with her shortsword. Blood poured from the wound, setting Rynne’s stomach to roiling, but there was no time to ruminate; there were two attackers left, and both of them were focused on Fenris, who was holding them off with his customary silent snarl. 

Rynne darted out from behind Fenris and kicked one of his opponents in the back of the knee, causing the woman’s leg to buckle and bringing her crashing to her knees. Before the woman could do more than gasp in surprise, Rynne stabbed her in the neck, then once more for good measure. By the time Rynne spun around to look at Fenris again, his remaining foe was dead. 

Rynne whipped around to the others to see if they needed help, but their enemies were dead as well: eleven dead pirates in total against their six. Maker’s balls, they’d been outnumbered. This could have been bad, and they hadn’t even seen it coming… 

Her stomach lurched, and she forced herself to breathe deeply through her lips so she wouldn’t vomit. _It’s fine,_ she told herself firmly. _We survived, we’re fine, everyone’s still standing, there’s no reason to be scared–_

Fenris squeezed her shoulder. “Are you all right?” he demanded. His eyes were darting over her face and body for injuries. He was bloodied too, but with no major injuries that she could see. 

She took another deep breath, then smiled. “I’m fine,” she said. She pointed at the woman she’d just killed. “This dame here, not so much.”

Fenris let out a breath. “ _Venhedis,_ ” he muttered. He gently stroked her neck before ushering her over to the others, who were searching the now-dead bodies.

Piper shoved her hair back and looked up at them as they approached. “They’re the same crew as that bunch from last night,” she said. She pointed to one of the dead men’s forearms, which bore a tattoo of a jackal’s head. “That’s Ianto’s sigil.”

“Shit,” Rynne breathed. 

“We should be prepared for more violence,” Cullen said. “Ianto’s people take prisoners, and I do not mean that in a positive way.”

Rynne shot him a guarded glance. His face was more stonelike and stern than she’d ever seen. “Have you had run-ins with him before?” she asked.

“Yes,” Cullen said curtly. “But now is not the time to elaborate. From now on, we should be more careful. More cautious of our surroundings.” 

His tone was slightly censorious, and Rynne’s belly twisted. Was she to blame for this attack? Had she and Piper been talking too loudly?

 _Fuck,_ she thought in dismay. But there was no time to apologize; Merrill was talking now in a worried tone. “We must be quick,” she said urgently. She looked at Piper and Fenris in turn. “You felt it before the attack, didn’t you? Something is wrong.”

“Wrong with what?” Dorian said.

“With the forest,” Merrill said tensely. “It was trying to send us a message. We have to help.”

“Help who?” Dorian said irritably. “Try and remember that you have three lumbering humans along for the journey.”

“The forest!” Merrill said impatiently. “The spirit that’s calling to us, the spirit of–”

“Fen’Harel doesn’t exist,” Fenris snapped. 

Rynne stepped close to him and soothingly stroked his arm, but Merrill glared at him. “Say whatever you like, Fenris, but you can’t ignore this. You felt it too.” She turned to Piper. “Please, Captain. We have to hurry.”

Piper nodded, and Merrill relaxed slightly. “This way,” she said to them all, and she set off at a brisk jog. 

They all fell into step behind her. No one spoke for a time, which didn’t help the ominous wriggling feeling in Rynne’s belly; she would have much preferred if everyone was joking around like they had done before, but if Cullen thought they needed to be quiet… 

She chewed her lip to stop herself from speaking. When Fenris broke the silence and spoke to her, she was pathetically grateful.

“You handled yourself well,” he said quietly. 

She shot him a smile. “You smooth talker. That’ll get you everywhere with me.”

He continued to frown at her. “When we run into the rest of these slavers, stay by my side,” he said. “I will keep you safe.”

“Maybe I’ll be the one keeping _you_ safe,” Rynne replied. “I handle myself quite well, you know. Someone extremely smart and handsome once told me that.”

To Rynne’s pleasure, the corner of his mouth quirked in a tiny smile. “You are truly irrepressible,” he murmured.

“I try,” she said cheerfully. After all, what other choice was there but to keep trying and hoping for the best? 

She took Fenris’s hand as they continued to lope along in Merrill’s wake. _It’s going to be fine,_ she thought. She and the others would keep fighting and staying safe, and they were going to discover the source of this mystery voice and find some lovely treasure like Piper said, and everything was going to be fine. 

Everything was going to be absolutely fine, just like it always was.

###  CULLEN 

Cullen was not pleased with the current situation.

He couldn’t quite believe that Ianto was here. He hadn’t discussed this with Piper yesterday given the excitement of her proposal, but of all the damned people they could run across in this untouched forest, it had to be the man who had kept Cullen captive in the dank underbelly of a slaver ship for a month. The longest and worst month of his life… 

He never thought he’d see Ianto again, especially not after taking a landbound position in the navy. And it had somehow never occurred to Cullen that he might actually encounter Ianto or his men during his forays on the Lady Luck. 

_Foolish of me,_ he thought ruefully. Or perhaps it wasn’t so much foolish as a sort of denial – remnants of the same denial that had given him terrible nightmares for years after he’d been freed from Ianto’s ship. 

He sighed quietly as he continued to jog in Merrill’s wake. He liked to think that he’d largely moved past the dread and the fear that that plagued him during that terrible month, but he supposed he would only know how far he’d come when he was face-to-face with the blasted slaver captain once more. 

_If_ they found themselves face-to-face with him, that was. There was no guarantee that Ianto was even alive. If they were lucky, they might not encounter any further enemies, and they’d be able to search for valuables without any further harassment. Or better yet, they might find Ianto already dead. 

But given Merrill’s claims of danger – and more ominously, the fact that neither Piper nor Fenris had disagreed Merrill’s claims – Cullen strongly suspected they wouldn’t be so lucky. 

“We’ll get him, Cullen,” Piper said quietly. 

He looked at her. Her lovely face was hard and determined – a perfect match for her hard tone of voice. “If Ianto crosses us, we’ll fucking kill him,” she said fiercely. “ _I_ don’t take prisoners, especially not slaver scum.”

He nodded. There was nothing else to say about the matter, really. 

She reached out and briefly squeezed his hand. “Are you all right?”

He released a slow breath and gave her a softer look. “I’m well,” he assured her. “Don’t concern yourself about me. We should concern ourselves with monitoring our surroundings.” 

She nodded and released his hand, and they continued to follow Merrill at a brisk pace. 

Ten minutes later or so, Hawke gasped and pointed. “Look at that!” she said. 

There was no need for her to point; the building she’d spotted stood out among the wildness of the trees like a lighthouse in the fog, and it was clearly where Merrill was leading them. 

They picked up their pace. A few minutes later, they were close enough to make out the features of the structure in question. It looked like a temple, exactly as that pirate from last night had said, and it was carved entirely from white stone and marble. The structure was light and airy somehow, boasting a multitude of curving archways leading toward the main body of the building itself and culminating in multiple simple spires that glistened like metal, but a very pure white metal the likes of which Cullen had never before seen. The building was fronted by a small square courtyard of interlocking paving stones, and a set of broad stone steps led toward the graceful arching mouth of the building — steps which were flanked by curving marble banisters that would have been terribly difficult to carve. 

Cullen was no artist or architectural expert, but the style of the building reminded him forcibly of the statue of Fen’Harel that they’d found yesterday. And like the statue of Fen’Harel, the entire building looked pristine and perfectly clean. 

Pristine and clean indeed, aside from the decayed and yellowing skeletons that were scattered in the courtyard. 

“Maker’s bosom,” Dorian breathed.

Piper let out a tense little laugh. “Not quite the religious figure you’re looking for, I don’t think.” She pointed at two statues that guarded the entrance to the temple. “We’ve got two wolves. This place is definitely seeming pretty Fen’Harel-y.”

“Exactly,” Merrill said excitedly. “I knew it. I _knew_ Fen’Harel was protecting this place!” 

Fenris didn’t reply, to Cullen’s mild surprise. Cullen glanced at him, and was further alarmed to find him looking quite stunned.

“Wow,” Hawke said in a hushed tone. “This is… incredible. And macabre. Incredibly macabre, perhaps? Let’s go with that.” She took a step closer to the nearest rag-clad skeleton. “What do you suppose–”

“Don’t,” Fenris barked. He grabbed her and pulled her back against his chest. “Don’t touch anything. This place reeks of danger.” 

Hawke tutted. “I wasn’t going to touch anything. I was just going to examine the bodies a bit more closely. How do you suppose they died? Was it a big fight, do you think?”

“No,” Cullen said. “They all look far too… limp, for lack of a better word. Look at their poses and the positions of their limbs.” He gestured to a nearby pair of bodies, both of which were lying in a rather haphazard-looking pile. “It seems as though they simply… dropped dead.” 

Fenris tucked Hawke a little more closely against his body. Hawke, on the other hand, didn’t seem deterred by Cullen’s grim assessment. “That’s odd,” she said curiously. “What in the Void could have caused that to happen?”

“Poison, perhaps,” Fenris said. “Or a sudden and unseen attack.” His voice was taut with nerves and his eyes were darting around their surroundings, and Cullen felt a sudden pang of sympathy for him. Cullen had suffered several years’ worth of nightmares and anger and from a single month of captivity. He could only imagine how much Fenris must fear being taken captive after spending a whole year on a slaver ship.

“Or maybe it was a curse from the Dread Wolf,” Piper said. 

Dorian snorted. “Oh lovely, just what we need. A freakish storm, voices that only half of us can hear, and now look! A curse!” He folded his arms. “What a perfect little triumvirate of disasters. I don’t know how I’ll maintain my calm in the face of such excitement.”

Hawke let out a nervous little laugh, but Cullen was distracted by Piper – or rather, by her lack of reaction to Dorian’s sarcasm. She looked quite distracted, in fact, and it was enough to set Cullen’s teeth on edge.

“A curse is not a bad guess,” Merrill put in. She pointed to a nearby plant – a rather ugly plant with twisting stems covered in livid red thorns. “That’s _felandaris_ ,” she said. “It means ‘demon weed’. The ancient tales say that it grows in places that have seen great evil.”

“‘Great evil’?” Fenris said in a hard tone. “So you openly admit that evil events have happened here.”

“Very likely, yes,” Merrill said. “And I think the temple was protecting itself from these people.”

“Protecting itself?” Fenris said incredulously. “Did you not hear what Cullen said? These people were felled where they stood! They weren’t doing anything!”

“You don’t know that,” Merrill retorted. “My guess is that _they_ were the ones doing the evil acts.” She took a step closer to him. “Something in the temple is in trouble, Fenris. You know it as well as I do. There was probably the same trouble before, and now it’s happening again. This is probably why the qunari and Tevinter made a pact not to come here!” She turned to Piper, and her face was very determined. “I need to see what’s inside.”

Piper held up a hand. “Merrill, slow down, all right? Let’s just–”

“Piper, please,” Merrill said urgently. “We made it this far, and the voice is louder than ever. I can see from your face that it’s hissing at you, too. Both of you,” she said with a glance at Fenris. “And we need to find out what’s going on!”

Cullen looked at Piper in alarm. “Is that true? Is the voice bothering you?”

“It’s not _bothering_ me,” Piper said testily. “I feel great, thanks very much.”

Cullen stroked her hair. “Piper, there is no shame in turning back if you have concerns about–”

She shrugged him off. “I’m not ashamed,” she retorted. “And we can’t turn back.”

“We can,” he insisted. “You need only say the word.”

“He’s right,” Fenris interjected. “We should turn back.”

“No!” Merrill exclaimed. “We need to go into the temple! We made it this far, Piper, please!”

Piper dragged her hands through her hair. Cullen gazed at her steadily. “It is _your_ choice, Piper,” he said quietly. “And you do have a choice here.”

She stared at him, and he unflinchingly met her eyes. But before she could reply, Dorian spoke in a hard voice. “I hate to break this up, but I’m afraid we have company.” 

They all looked up, and an ugly combination of dread and anger pierced Cullen’s chest. 

It was Ianto. He was swaggering out of the temple with nine – no, ten – companions in his wake. “Well well, what’ve we got ‘ere?” he drawled. “A handful of adventurers and their knife-eared pets?”

Piper folded her arms and lifted her chin. “Watch who you’re calling a knife-ear, you fat fuck.” 

Ianto let out a nasty laugh. “A _mouthy_ knife-ear, is it? That’s an easy fix. I’ll cut yer tongue out once we’re done with ye.” He waved for his compatriots to attack. “Grab the rabbits. One of them’ll know how to read the fuckin’ pillar. Kill the rest.”

Cullen unsheathed his sword. Behind him, he heard Fenris doing the same. Piper’s épée was already in her hands, and true to form, she was running straight toward the nearest pirate. 

The pirate swung at her, and she skidded under his arm and slashed his belly at the same time. She rose to her feet behind him and booted him forward, then spun and just barely parried the strike of another pirate. 

Cullen ran toward her as she shoved the pirate away. She stumbled back slightly, unbalanced by his superior weight, and Cullen slashed his sword arm to gain her a moment before spinning away to defend her back. 

They fought together as a pair, with Cullen’s precise strikes counterbalancing Piper’s wild and unpredictable attacks. When a pirate grabbed Piper’s hair and pulled her toward him, Cullen cut his arm nearly down to the bone so Piper could free herself and stab him in the chest. When a wiry female pirate leapt on Cullen’s back and tried to slit his throat from behind, Piper dragged the woman off of him and bashed her face with the pommel of her dagger before slitting her throat. 

As the fight went on, Cullen kept an eye on the rest of the impromptu battlefield. Fenris and Hawke were defending each other while Dorian and Merrill did the same, but at the top of the temple steps, Ianto was simply standing there and watching with his arms folded. 

Cullen’s anger roared in his ears, but he channeled it into the fight to sharpen his focus. A few minutes later, only a handful of Ianto’s men remained. 

Cullen struck down one of the men, then spun to engage the next attacker. But to his surprise, he saw three of Ianto’s remaining men running away into the forest. 

“Hey!” Ianto bellowed. “Get back here, you lily-livered – fuckin’ bilgerats!”

Piper laughed nastily, then yelled after the fleeing pirates. “You’d better run! If we catch you, you’re deader than these fucking skeletons, you hear?”

“That’s right!” Merrill called out. “You leave this temple alone, and don’t come back!”

Fenris and Hawke strode over to join them. “What are we waiting for?” Fenris snarled. “Let us kill this man and move on.” 

“I will deal with this,” Cullen said. He stepped away from them and made his way toward the temple steps. 

Ianto’s hand was on the pommel of his sword. As Cullen approached, Ianto’s narrowed eyes darted from Cullen’s face to his sword hand and back up to his face. Then Ianto’s face went slack for a moment before curling into a smile. 

“I know you,” he said slowly. Then, to Cullen’s disgust, he let out a rolling laugh. “I remember you, all right. You was in my brig once upon a time. The navy man, wasn’t it? Stubborn and scared, you were. A scared little navy boy. Not so young anymore, eh?”

Cullen ignored the feeble taunt as he made his way up the stairs. Then Ianto lifted his hands. “I surrender,” he said.

Cullen stopped short. “I beg your pardon?” he said flatly.

“You heard me, sailor,” Ianto said. “I surrender. Take me to Kirkwall. Throw me in yer prison, if you got the stones.”

His tone was sarcastic and smug. He clearly thought he’d get the better of Cullen by surrendering, or at the very least he’d be able to delay a fight to the death. It was a clever ploy on Ianto’s part, in fact. If a criminal gave himself up for surrender to a naval officer, the officer’s duty would indeed be to accept the surrender and take the criminal to jail for processing and an eventual trial. 

But Ianto had made a crucial mistake. He’d assumed that Cullen was still a member of the Kirkwall Navy. 

Cullen wasn’t a navy man anymore. There was no jail, no processing, and no trial to be had. More importantly, the command he now followed was that of Captain Piper Lavellan. Cullen knew what sort of pragmatic, no-nonsense justice Piper would call for when it came to an unrepentant slaver, and if Cullen was honest, it was the sort of justice he was all too prepared to deliver.

He took a step closer to Ianto. “I reject your surrender. We will duel and settle this now.”

Ianto’s face went slack with shock, then twisted into a sneer. “You defyin’ your precious navy, boy?”

“I am no longer with the navy, unfortunately for you,” Cullen said. “And the only way you will escape this situation with your life is by taking mine first. If you can, that is.” He settled into a ready stance. “I am not the only one who is older now.”

Ianto spat on the steps and unsheathed his scimitar. A beat passed, and then another, and neither of them moved. 

Ianto smiled smugly, and Cullen curled his lip. Ianto was clearly happy to wait indefinitely until Cullen made the first move. 

Left with no choice, he charged at Ianto, and their swords met with a screeching clash of metal. Ianto parried his blow, then the second and the third, and when Cullen readied himself for a fourth blow, Ianto kicked him in the chest.

He stumbled back, then almost lost his balance on the short flight of stairs. He stumbled down to the bottom of the steps, cursing himself silently for his sloppiness. He should never have given Ianto the opening, but he was tired already from fighting and running through the forest while Ianto was fresh and rested. Furthermore, there was a reason Ianto had such a fearsome reputation along the east coast, and it wasn’t just his loathsome slaving activities. 

As though to illustrate the point, Ianto twirled his scimitar suavely as he sauntered down the steps toward Cullen. “Still want to duel me, boy?” he taunted. “Maybe you should give up now. Hand your knife-eared pet over to me. I assume the grey-haired one is yours, since you was guarding ‘er so fiercely.” He twirled his blade again, then winked salaciously at Piper. “Don’t worry, poppet, I’ll treat you _real_ nice.”

Behind Cullen, Piper let out a snarling sort of laugh. “Fuck off and die, you piece of shit,” she spat, but her words were nearly lost by the clash of steel-on-steel as Cullen lunged at Ianto once more. Ianto parried his every strike just as before, but Cullen didn’t mind; he lessened the strength of his blows slightly, giving Ianto the impression that he was weakening, and when Ianto raised his scimitar a little higher to strike him harder still, Cullen lashed out with one foot and kicked him squarely in the knee. 

Ianto gasped in pain, then lashed wildly at Cullen with his blade. Cullen dodged away from the blow and slashed Ianto’s leg, catching him with a deep cut that crossed his thigh from his knee almost to his hip. 

_Good,_ Cullen thought with no small amount of relief. Ianto was hobbled now, and it shouldn’t take too much more effort to finish this fight. 

Ianto was gritting his teeth and grasping his thigh with his free hand. He lurched toward Cullen and swung at him once more, but Cullen dodged back and grabbed Ianto’s wrist, then flung him back toward the carved marble banister. Ianto’s back slammed against the banister, and Cullen flew at him with his sword raised and ready to bissect his neck–

 _CLANG._ Ianto raised his sword just in time to block Cullen’s swing. They struggled silently, their blades crossed right across Ianto’s thick neck, and Cullen clenched his jaw and pushed hard, trying to weaken Ianto’s grip so he could slit the evil man’s throat–

Stars burst across Cullen’s vision, accompanied by a ringing in his right ear: Ianto had punched him in the ear with his free hand. Stunned and dizzied, Cullen stepped back, then cursed himself once more as Ianto shoved away from the banister and lunged at him in a flurry of swift strikes.

Cullen hastily deflected the blows while trying to recapture his balance. Once his vision had cleared, he kept feigning weakness as Ianto advanced on him, reserving his strength as the larger pirate drew closer. On the next parry, Cullen suddenly shoved forward with all of his strength.

Ianto stumbled back and nearly tripped on a paving stone, and then it was Cullen on the offensive, slamming and swinging his blade with all his strength as he beat Ianto back toward the steps. Cullen’s own breaths were loud in his ears, but Ianto’s snarling lips were pale with the loss of blood, blood that was pouring down his thigh, and his gait was more of a pained shuffle than a walk… 

He was nearly finished. Cullen could see it. And he could see the move Ianto was going to make even before he made it. 

Ianto took a larger step back and lifted his arm, and Cullen hesitated on purpose. Lured by Cullen’s pause, Ianto lunged toward him with his scimitar.

In a mirror of one of Piper’s swiftest moves, Cullen slid to his knees and spun beneath Ianto’s arm, drawing his blade in a vicious swipe along the side of Ianto’s ribs. As Cullen rose to his feet behind Ianto, he brought his sword up with him, then brought it down viciously across Ianto’s back.

Ianto toppled to his knees with a gasp, and his sword fell from his hand with a clatter. Cullen strode around to face him, then roughly grasped his collar to lift his face. 

“That grey-haired elf is not my pet,” he said fiercely to the slaver. “She is my fiancée.” He sliced Ianto’s throat open with one swift cut. 

Blood poured from the wound into Ianto’s throat. He gurgled breathlessly for a moment before Cullen ended his miserable life with a swift stab to the heart. 

He dropped Ianto’s collar, and the dead pirate dropped facefirst onto the paving stones. Cullen released a slow breath, then wiped his sword on Ianto’s body before sheathing it. A second later, Piper was beside him and stroking his forearm. 

“That was intense. Are you okay?” she asked.

He looked down at her. Her hazel eyes were full of warmth and understanding and just a little worry, and Cullen knew that she understood the real significance of this kill: it wasn’t just an immediate physical threat that Cullen had laid to rest today. 

He squeezed her hand and nodded. “I’m well, thank you. And I’m pleased that this threat is eliminated. Not just for us, but for the entire east coast of Thedas. Ianto was a menace.”

“He really was,” Dorian said. “His slave trading was known even in Tevinter, and that’s truly saying something.”

Piper slid a comforting arm around Cullen’s waist, and Hawke patted his arm. “Good on you, Cullen. It’s too bad Varric wasn’t here. He could have written a truly epic fight scene based on that duel! I’ll try and tell him about it when we get back to the Lady Luck, but my recounting probably won’t be much better than ‘sword! Sword! Parry-block-stab!’” 

As always, Hawke’s tone was light and humorous, and everyone relaxed slightly at her words, including Cullen himself. He gave her a small smile. “Thank you, Hawke, but I think I would rather put this behind me.” 

“Suit yourself,” she said cheerfully. “Varric will probably be too busy writing about whatever we find in the temple, anyway.”

“What?” Fenris said sharply. “You _want_ to go in the temple?”

She shrugged. “Well, Ianto and his fools were in there, and they came out just fine. That means we can go in too, don’t you think?”

Fenris frowned, but Merrill hopped and did a little clap. “Hawke is right! See, Fenris? It’s safe to enter!”

He glowered at her, but she wasn’t finished. “Besides, he mentioned a pillar that he wanted us elves to read,” she said excitedly. “That means there must be some ancient Elvhen writing inside!” She turned to Piper with a pleading expression. “Please, Captain, can we investigate? If I can read even some of it, maybe we can find out who the voice belongs to.”

“I thought you were certain it was Fen’Harel,” Fenris said snidely. 

Merrill shot him a resentful look. “Well, some of us need more proof. I’m just trying to be nice.”

He grunted and folded his arms. Hawke tucked her thumbs in her belt and shrugged. “I mean, it can’t hurt to just pop inside and have a look around, can it?”

Dorian chuckled. “You do enjoy tempting fate, don’t you?” 

“It’s not that!” she laughed. “I’m just here for a good time, and this temple is beautiful. I’m dying to see if it’s just as pretty on the inside. Aren’t you?”

Dorian stroked his mustache. “I suppose I am looking forward to being indoors for a minute or two.”

Hawke snickered and elbowed him. “You’re so pampered.”

He shrugged elegantly. “I do take the chance to pamper myself as much as possible. If I don’t, who else will?”

Throughout their exchange, Piper was uncharacteristically quiet. Cullen gently squeezed her hand. “Piper? What do you think?”

She blew out a breath, then nodded. “We’re going in. Let’s have a look at this fancy elven pillar.” She looked up at Fenris. “You don’t have to come. You can stay out here and keep watch if you want.”

His scowl deepened, and he shifted slightly closer to Hawke. “I remain at your side,” he said. “But you should know I–”

“–you think this is a bad idea, I know,” Piper finished. She waved to them all. “Come on, you gorgeous bunch of gremlins. Let’s go.” 

Merrill beamed at her, then grabbed Hawke’s hand and pulled her toward the temple steps. Fenris and Dorian followed close at their heels, leaving Piper and Cullen to follow up the rear.

Piper squeezed his hand. “You’re sure you’re okay? That fight must have been hard. Not physically, since you’re such a big strapping man, but still...”

Cullen squeezed her fingers in turn. “In truth, it’s you that I am concerned about now. If you have any reservations about this temple, you only need to–”

She stopped and frowned at him. “Cullen, that’s enough,” she said sternly. “Stop trying to make me question this. If I have any doubts about it, I’ll tell you, all right?”

He wilted. He knew she was already questioning this; he just wanted her to talk to him about it. But pressing the issue was only going to make her more irate.

He bowed his head slightly. “All right. I am with you, Piper. Lead the way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cullen and Ianto's duel was choreographed by Schoute, WHO SAVES ME FROM HAVING TO WRITE FIGHTS AND FOR WHICH I AM VERY GRATEFUL. THANK YOU BBY ❤️❤️❤️
> 
> Elvhen words in this chapter, thanks to FenxShiral:  
> \- _saotabradh_ = wedding cake.  
> \- _felandaris_ = demon weed/plant.
> 
> Your writer is [Pikapeppa on Tumblr,](https://pikapeppa.tumblr.com/) and your wonderful artist and creator is [Schoute!](https://schoute.tumblr.com/) xoxoxo


	34. Mad Piper

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To anyone who commented: AHH so sorry I haven't replied yet, I will soon!! I love you all!! xoxo

###  PIPER 

Piper tried to ignore the susurrus at the back of her mind as she and Cullen followed the others up the temple steps. It was more noticeable now than it had been when they were in the forest; yesterday and even earlier this morning, she’d still needed to stop and concentrate in order to hear it. Now, the voice was like a faint and persistent hiss – no, not even as loud as a hiss. It was like a merest hint of a hum at the base of her skull: loud enough to make her ears twitch, but not loud enough for her to make out any words.

 _It’s nothing,_ she thought. She scraped her hands through her hair as though to shove the voice away, then boldly stepped through the entrance into the temple.

The foyer was dim, lit only by a pair of abandoned lanterns and an impromptu fire that Ianto and his men had carelessly left behind. Even so, she could tell from the others’ echoing voices and footsteps that the space was huge and mostly empty.

The floor was marble, smooth and cool beneath her bare feet, and as Piper led Cullen over to the fire, she glanced around at the open space. The slender support columns were made of pure white stone that rose toward the vaulted ceiling in a graceful way that reminded Piper of trees. The walls glittered strangely in the dim flickering shadows from the fire, and toward the back of the cavernous building, there was a wide circular platform about as high as Piper’s waist topped with a stone obelisk. 

Fenris and Rynne had taken one of the abandoned lanterns and were already wandering off toward the left side of the temple, and Merrill was holding the other lantern. She grinned at Piper as they drew near, and her joy was so obvious that Piper couldn’t help but smile back.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” Merrill enthused. “I’ve never seen such a perfectly preserved Elvhen temple!” She grabbed Piper’s hand and squeezed it firmly. “Thank you, _lethallan,_ ” she said fervently. “Even if there’s no treasure here–”

“There better be treasure here, or I’m going to mutiny against myself,” Piper said, only half-jokingly. 

Merrill laughed. “No matter what we find here, I’m… oh, Piper, finding this place is all the treasure I needed. Thank you for having me along.”

Piper chuckled and waved her off. “Ah, get out of here. You’re the one doing me a favour by leading us here. And by reading that pillar thing, by the way.” She jerked her chin at the obelisk on the platform. “I assume _that’s_ what Ianto was talking about.”

“I’m sure it was!” Merrill said. “I’ll go look at it right away. Come on, Dorian, you can help me!” 

“Of course,” Dorian said as he sauntered over. “You know how much I love assisting. I’m extremely helpful in addition to being extremely handsome.” He followed Merrill away toward the platform.

Piper smiled to herself as she crouched by the fire to make a torch. As much as she’d brushed off Merrill’s enthusiasm, she was actually very grateful that Merrill was so unequivocally pleased to be here, especially since every move they made only seemed to bring them more trouble. Not that Piper minded trouble per se, given that she was so often the cause of it. But it was the _type_ of trouble they were running into that was making her feel so unbalanced.

Fights were fine, for example. Piper had no problem with the sort of trouble that could be solved by a punch to the face or a blade across the throat. She wasn’t particularly bothered by the thought of getting lost, and even the thought of being injured wasn’t that irksome. This stupid elven voice business, on the other hand, was… 

_It’s no big deal,_ she insisted to herself. It was strange that only the elves could hear it and strange that it had led them to the beach and to this temple, but Merrill was going to read that obelisk and figure out where it was coming from. In the meantime, it was just an annoyance. A small, stupid annoyance. It wasn’t a big deal. She was Captain Mad Piper, after all, and Mad Piper wasn’t afraid of a stupid whispery voice.

She dampened the head of her makeshift torch with a dash of high-proof rum, then lit it in the fire before turning to Cullen. “Want to go have a poke around while Merrill reads that pillar?” she asked. 

“All right,” Cullen said. “Where would you like to start?”

His tone was warm and polite – almost too polite, in fact. Piper glanced at him guardedly, and her heart sank: he had that expression that bothered her so much, that lifted-eyebrows look that made him look worried even though he was smiling. 

She clenched her jaw. She wished Cullen would stop being so bloody worried. He kept talking about how he wanted to help her, but the worry in his face was the complete opposite of helpful. 

Not that she needed his help, anyway. She didn’t need anyone’s help because everything was fucking fine. And even if it wasn’t, Piper would make it fine. If a problem came up, she would find a solution, and she would get them out of the mess just like she always did. 

She turned away from him. “Let’s, um, go over there and look at these glittery walls…” 

She trailed off, genuinely distracted by the walls. Now that she was looking at them more attentively, she realized that they were actually made up of extremely intricate mosaics. 

She strode over to the right side of the temple. The light from her torch played over the tiles, causing them to shimmer in an unusual quixotic play of colour, and Piper realized that the tiles weren’t just regular ceramic tiles: they were some unusual kind of glass which seemed to change colours when she shifted the angle of her torch.

“Wow. This is amazing,” she murmured. She glanced over at the platform and raised her voice. “Hey, Merrill! How sacrilegious would it be if I took a few pieces of this tile back to the Lady Luck?”

“That’s lovely, Piper,” Merrill called back. Her tone of voice was vague and distracted, and Piper snickered; Merill was clearly too engrossed in her task to pay attention to what Piper was saying. 

She turned back to Cullen with a smile, ready to make a joke about taking Merrill at her word, but the joke died at the tip of her tongue. He looked so damned anxious, and he wasn’t even attempting to smile anymore. 

Piper dropped the torch, then wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. He stumbled back slightly in surprise, but his lips parted under hers, and Piper kissed him more firmly still until his hands curved around her back and her waist. 

She traced his lower lip with her tongue. He released a shaky little breath, like a breeze across her lips, and she finally peeled away from him.

He stared at her with wide eyes. “What was that for?”

“To get that worried look off your face and put a nicer one there instead,” she said. 

The worry immediately started to creep back across his forehead, and Piper tutted playfully. “Oh, the frown’s coming back. Better kiss you again.”

He tilted his head pleadingly. “Piper…”

She raised her eyebrows. “What, a kiss isn’t enough for you? Do we need to find a private corner for you to fuck me in?”

He coughed quietly and glanced around. “Piper, please. There’s an echo in here…” 

She grinned at him. He was being all shy, but a tiny smile was playing about his lips. She shamelessly pressed her hips to his. “That’s okay. I can be quiet,” she murmured. 

He cleared his throat again. “I appreciate the, er, offer, but perhaps not here.” 

He was smiling more broadly now. Relieved, Piper chuckled and took a step away. “Your loss, Golden Boy. But the offer’s still on the table if you change your mind. If we can find a convenient table somewhere around here, that is.” She grinned salaciously at him and picked the torch off the floor, then turned back to the mosaic to study it more closely. 

She took a step back so she could better see the entire image. The bottom half was a slender curved shape like a vase or a stylized body, but it branched out toward the top into two twining treelike structures…

_Not trees,_ she realized. _Halla horns._ The top part of the mosaic showed halla’s horns, and the bottom part almost looked like a stylized melding of a halla head and a woman’s body. 

“This must be Ghilan’nain,” Piper said. She glanced at Cullen. “You know, the elf goddess that turns into a halla and back…” 

She trailed off. He smiled the moment she turned to look at him, but not quickly enough for her to miss the worried look that he’d quickly masked. 

She gave him a reproving look. “Aren’t you going to even try and enjoy this? Merrill’s right, you know. This is kind of incredible. It’s clearly been years since anyone aside from us set foot in this place. Well, us and Ianto’s fuckers, I mean.”

“That’s true,” Cullen said quietly. “But it doesn’t seem that the people who were here before us fared particularly well.”

She sighed loudly. “ _Fenedhis_ , you and Fenris both. Look, if you’re trying to scare me into going back to the ship…”

“I’m not trying to scare you,” he said. “I simply…” He rubbed his stubbled chin. “Piper, it is not unreasonable to be… wary of this situation. There are a number of unknowns at play that are worrying. If you wanted to take a step back and re-evaluate–”

“Merrill’s going to figure out where the voice is coming from,” Piper interrupted. “Then it won’t be unknown anymore.”

“Even if Merrill determines the source of the voice, that may not make it go away,” Cullen said.

“So?” Piper demanded.

“So…” He gave her a tender look that set her teeth on edge. “If this is something you will have to cope with for some time, I want to understand. I want to be able to help–”

“I don’t need your help,” Piper said in a hard voice. “I don’t need anyone’s help, all right? I can take care of myself.” She glared at him. “Actually, you know how you can help me? Stop trying to scare me about this. I’m–”

She broke off before she could finish her horrible thought: _I’m scared enough as it is._ She didn’t dare say that, though, because it wasn’t true. She wasn’t scared. She was Captain Mad Piper, for fuck’s sake, and Mad Piper didn’t get scared of a stupid voice or a few dried-up old skeletons outside of an eerily clean old elven temple. 

Cullen reached for her arm. Without thinking about it, she shifted away from him.

He pulled his hand back. A flash of hurt crossed his face, and Piper instantly felt horribly guilty.

She tugged hard on one of her braids. “Cullen, look–”

“It’s all right,” he said quickly. “I… you’re right. I overstepped. It’s not my place to question you.”

She frowned slightly. Technically it _was_ his place to question her; that was the first mate’s job, after all. But that wasn’t the capacity in which he’d been questioning her, and it wasn’t why he was sad. 

His eyes were downcast, and the awful feeling continued to curdle in her chest and in her throat. She didn’t know what to say, though, and if she _did_ try to say anything, she was worried she would start crying – gods, crying in front of everyone here, and then all of them would think she was a mess who couldn’t take care of her crew.

She swallowed hard. Then a bright peal of laughter rang out from the other side of the temple.

Piper looked up to see Fenris pinching Rynne’s waist. She smacked his hand playfully, then dodged close to him and poked his belly. When he tried to grab her wrist, she skipped away from him with another bright laugh and ran off toward the platform to join Merrill and Dorian. 

Fenris shook his head, then started to make his way over to Piper and Cullen, and Piper managed a small smile. Even from over here, she could see his smirk. 

He joined them and raised his eyebrows at her. “What?”

She folded her arms and gave him a smug look. “ _You_ look happy.”

He shot her a sardonic look. “You don’t,” he said bluntly. “Why are you so insistent on exploring this temple? All signs are pointing to danger, and it is obvious that you have your doubts about being here.”

Cullen grimaced and rubbed the back of his neck. Piper clenched her jaw in frustration, but she refused to give Fenris or Cullen the satisfaction of breaking her down.

She wrestled her face into a smile and elbowed him. “Did you forget who your captain is? I live for danger. They’d call me Captain Danger Lavellan if I didn’t already have an excellent nickname.”

Fenris didn’t smile. “Piper, you’re adventurous, but you are not stupid. This is stubborn and reckless, even for you.”

She dropped the smile and gave him a frank look. “You want to know why we’re here? Look around, for fuck’s sake. Look at how fancy this place is.” She waved at the iridescent walls. “There’s definitely something valuable here. If we can get our hands on a couple of gold candelabras or something, that’ll be enough to float us for months.”

Fenris lifted his chin. “So this foolishness is for the sake of treasure. For wealth.”

“No, you ass, it’s for the crew,” Piper said impatiently. “It’s for all of us! In case you weren’t listening to Varric, we’re low on funds. I’ll have a mutiny on my hands if I don’t get you lazy load of layabouts your proper due.”

Fenris’s frown deepened. Before he could respond, Merrill called out from the platform. “Piper, come quickly! I’ve translated part of the inscription!”

Piper jogged toward the platform with Cullen and Fenris close behind. As she mounted the low stairs to the platform, Piper noted that the floor of the circular platform was also made up of an intricate mosaic. 

She crossed the tiled floor to join the others. Merrill was crouched on the ground and scribbling in her open notebook while Rynne helped Dorian to take charcoal rubbings of the pillar. 

Merrill looked up at Piper with a brilliant smile. “This temple was definitely dedicated to Fen’Harel!” she announced. “This is a rough translation, of course, and only a part of it – I’ve never seen some of these runes before, but that’s always the case when you find a new piece of Elvhen writing since it’s a lost language, although this pillar and the statue from last night are the most complete pieces of writing I’ve ever seen...”

Piper gave her a clueless shrug, and Merrill broke off with a giggle. “Sorry, sorry, I’m babbling again. Here’s what part of the inscription says.” She read from her notebook. “ _The blood of the people will bring justice and strike down the…_ threat, or evil. _When she returns, the land will be renewed in her name, and the Dread Wolf will rise_.” 

Predictably, Fenris scowled and folded his arms. “‘Blood of the people’? What does that mean? That is clearly an ill omen.”

“No, no,” Merrill said hurriedly, “it’s the way that old Elvhen writing refers to us, to elves. We’re the blood of the people, you see?” She tapped her notebook. “It’s almost like this was a prophecy, and we fulfilled it. We came here and struck down the threat – those horrible slavers. We brought the justice that Fen’Harel wanted!”

Fenris scowled more deeply, and Dorian tilted his head curiously. “What does the rest of the inscription mean, then? That bit about ‘when she returns’. Who is ‘she’?”

“Good point,” Piper said. She turned to Merrill. “You said that the voice also talked about a ‘she’ in the dreams, right?”

“That’s right,” Merrill said. “‘Until I find her, they will know sorrow’.” She looked at Fenris. “Before you can fuss, don’t worry: ‘they’ must mean the other pirates, and the sorrow they knew was getting lost and turned around in the forest. If _we_ hadn’t killed them, they would have starved eventually.” She shrugged and smiled rather smugly. “That seems sorrowful enough to me.”

“Merrill,” Cullen said politely, “who is the ‘she’? I think we’d all like to know–”

Merrill smacked her forehead. “Oh, silly me, I forgot to tell you last night! I translated the rest of the text on the Fen’Harel statue – or the parts that I could, at least.”

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Fenris demanded.

“It wasn’t my fault!” she said defensively. “You were all busy in the forest making puppy eyes at each other and getting engaged.”

Fenris glowered at her, but Hawke shrugged cheerfully. “Well, she’s not wrong. I was certainly busy making puppy eyes.” To Piper’s amusement, she demonstrated said puppy eyes by batting her eyelashes at Fenris.

He pursed his lips, then huffed. “Fine. What did the inscription say?” he asked Merrill.

“It explained who the ‘she’ was,” Merrill said. “And it – Mythal’s mercy, I’m excited just thinking about it – it’s proof that some of the old Elvhen legends are true!” She looked at Hawke. “Do you remember I was telling you that story about the Dread Wolf howling for his lost lady love?”

“Ooh, yes, I liked that story,” Rynne said. “Such a tragic romance.”

Dorian frowned. “What story was this? I don’t think you mentioned it during our little drinking – er, storytelling session before we came here.”

“It’s said that the Dread Wolf crosses the seas in search of his lost lady love,” Merrill said. “He causes great storms and wreaks havoc on ships in his search for her – just like the ships that we found on the shore when we arrived.”

Fenris raised his eyebrows. “Just like the storm that nearly caused _us_ to wreck on the shore, you mean.”

Merrill ignored him and continued to speak to Dorian. “Different Dalish clans have different beliefs about who the Dread Wolf’s lover was. Some think she was a mortal woman who won the Dread Wolf’s heart, but some think it was the goddesses Ghilan’nain or Sylaise.” She pointed to a line in her notebook. “The plinth of that statue we found basically said this: _her feet were silent on the ground, but on the ground they must remain. She could not join him in the…_ dreaming, I think, _so the Dread Wolf left to walk by her side, and by her side he stayed for many years_.” She tapped the page thoughtfully. “It might say forever, actually – _bellanar_ , _bellanaris_ – but I can’t quite tell from my own rubbing, that’s my fault.”

Hawke sat on the ground beside Merrill. “That sounds so romantic.”

“Doesn’t it?” Merrill said eagerly. “But listen to this – this was the part that looked like it was scratched in later by someone angry: _She is taken. Stolen. Gone. I will find her. I will have…_ It’s either justice or revenge, I can’t quite tell because of the style of script. Anyway, _I will have justice, and they will know sorrow._ ” She looked up at Piper. “Do you see what this means? It proves that the Dread Wolf’s lady love was a mortal! She couldn’t join him in the dreaming – that means she was mortal, and then the bit about her being taken? It likely refers to slavers, since our people have been preyed upon by humans for centuries. The Dread Wolf fell in love with a mortal woman, not with another god!”

Piper nodded slowly, genuinely unsure what to say. She was feeling dumbfounded by all of this, quite frankly. She really hadn’t come here expecting to prove the existence of an elvhen god’s mortal lover. She’d just been hoping for something valuable to take back to the crew.

Thankfully, Dorian picked up her conversational slack. “But… Merrill, this all sounds like…” He trailed off and twisted one of his many gold rings around his finger, and Piper could tell he was struggling to be diplomatic. Finally he spoke again. “If you say this inscription proves who the Dread Wolf’s lost lady was, then you’re saying that the Dread Wolf – a god – was real.”

“Dorian, we know he was real,” Merrill said patiently. “He’s who was calling us this entire time. I’ve been saying this all along.”

Dorian shot Cullen a guarded look, and Merrill sighed. “Look, it’s fine if you don’t believe me. I’ve read enough here to know I’m right. But Piper, you’ll be interested in this: remember I said that the Vir’Tual’salan is here? The Way of Renewal, or the Well of Renewal, depending on how you interpret it?”

“Yeah, that’s right,” Piper said, relieved that they were talking about something tangible again. “The Fountain of Youth.”

Merrill nodded. “Well, from what I’ve read here, there _is_ a well here, but it’s not the Well of Renewal. The charcoal rubbing I took at Sundermount wasn’t clear. It’s not the Vir’Tual’salan, but the Vir’Abelasan.”

Piper’s belly jolted. Vir’Abelasan – _abelas_ , like…?

Merrill completed her uneasy thought. “It’s not the Well of Renewal. It’s the Well of Sorrows.”

Fenris recoiled, and Dorian raised his eyebrows. “The Well of Sorrows? Well, that sounds cheery. I think I’ll pass on taking a drink from that.”

Hawke laughed. “Same here. I’ll stick to rum, I think.”

“There’s an actual well here?” Cullen said. “We haven’t seen any sort of well.”

“That’s the most exciting part,” Merrill chirped. “The instructions on finding it are a riddle, here at the bottom of the pillar. You can only find the Well if you can read Elvhen.” She beamed at Piper once more. “It’s like we were meant to find this place! What are the chances that the first people in ages to find this place are ones who can actually read the inscription and find the Well?”

Fenris replied in a hard tone. “You mean that _you_ were meant to find this place and to read the inscription. You’re talking about yourself.”

Merrill scowled at him. “Well, pardon me for being excited about this discovery. I’ve only been searching for something like this for years–”

“That’s my point,” Fenris interrupted. “You care only for making a name for yourself. For proving yourself right, even in the face of all of this obvious danger.”

Merrill stared at him in exasperation. “What danger? Fenris, there is no danger!”

“The skeletons in the courtyard, then,” he said. “Care to explain that?”

Piper winced slightly. His voice was harsh with sarcasm, and Merrill scowled more deeply at him. “The inscription said that a force of evil–”

Fenris interrupted again. “ _You_ said that Ianto’s men were the force of evil and that _we_ had struck them down. What about those skeletons? Your interpretation provides no explanation for that.”

Merrill dropped her gaze to her notebook. Then Cullen spoke in a far gentler tone. “He has a point, Merrill. Didn’t you say you think the skeletons date back to the time of the qunari-Tevinter neutrality treaty?”

“Yes,” Merrill said hesitantly. “But–”

Fenris cut her off once again. “You’ve brought us to this cursed place, and now you want us to find this Well of Sorrows just to prove yourself correct.” He gestured angrily at her. “You’re selfish and reckless, and you’re leading the rest of us into this recklessness with you.”

Merrill opened her mouth to retort, but Piper broke in. “Cursed?” she said to Fenris. “You actually think this place is cursed?”

“You are the one who said it first,” Fenris retorted.

“I was joking,” Piper said warily. “And since when are you superstitious?”

“Since I started hearing a voice at the back of my mind that’s not my own!” he yelled.

Merrill shoved herself to her feet. “No one said you have to find the Well of Sorrows with us, Fenris,” she snapped. “You can march right out of here and go back to the ship. No one is stopping you.” She snatched the charcoal rubbings from Dorian’s hands and started briskly rolling them up. “Actually, maybe it would be better if you went back to the Lady Luck,” she said. She shoved the rubbings into the pouch at her waist and planted her hands on her hips. “I’m getting tired of having you shout at me all the time.”

Fenris sneered at her. Then Rynne reached up and took his hand.

He flinched slightly, but Rynne rose to her feet and clasped his hand more firmly in both of hers. “Fenris, if you want to go back to the Lady Luck, I’ll go with you.”

He looked at her, and Piper watched as some of the rage melted from his face. He frowned slightly at Rynne. “Do you want to stay?”

“I…” Rynne trailed off and nibbled her lip, then looked at Merrill. “Do you think that finding the Well of Sorrows will help to get the voice out of Fenris’s – out of your heads?”

Cullen straightened and moved a little closer to Piper. Merrill, meanwhile, tilted her head thoughtfully. “It’s possible,” she said. “I… honestly, Hawke, I think the voice is trying to tell us that there’s something more we need to do for the forest. If we find the Well of Sorrows and we do what Fen’Harel is asking us to do, then… yes, the voice might go away.”

Rynne nodded slowly, then turned to Fenris once more. “It would be nice if we could get rid of that voice in your head. But if you want to go back to the Lady Luck, I’ll go with you.” She shrugged and smiled. “I’ll go wherever you want to go.” 

Fenris stared at her for a long moment. The anger left his face bit by bit, leaving behind an open sort of gratitude that made an odd and wistful ache rise in Piper’s chest. 

She glanced at Cullen. He was also watching Fenris and Rynne with a slightly sad expression.

She folded her arms and dropped her gaze. Then Fenris ran his fingers through his hair. “Fine. We’ll stay. But–”

Merrill boldly lifted her chin. “If you’re going to stay, you can’t keep yelling at me. You’re being very mean.”

He glared at her. “If _you_ stopped being so selfish and presumptuous–”

“That’s enough,” Piper barked. “Fenris, stop being an ass to Merrill. Merrill, tell us how to get into this Well.”

Her voice echoed harshly through the temple, and Merrill and Fenris both fell silent. Piper forced herself to smile at Merrill, who was looking quite wary now. “I’m still hoping we’ll find some of that treasure you promised me,” she said. “Otherwise I really am going to pick the glass from the walls.”

Merrill smiled tentatively at her. “All right. The instructions are a riddle, as I mentioned, and it’s something like this: _come as a friend to a friend. Rise from the start and push to the end._ ”

Rynne’s eyes widened. “Wow, it actually rhymes?”

Merrill tittered and waved a hand. “No no, that’s just a coincidence. Ancient Elvhen doesn't really, er, _do_ rhymes. It’s very poetic, though, but mostly with metaphors and indirect references and there can be many meanings–”

Piper raised her eyebrows. “Merrill…”

“Sorry, I’m rambling again!” She laughed, then cleared her throat. “Anyway, um, that’s all. That’s the whole riddle.”

There was a brief, nonplussed pause. Then Dorian broke the silence. “What a shame that I left my riddle-solving dressing gown on the ship.”

Fenris scoffed, and everyone relaxed a bit. Piper smiled gratefully at Dorian while Merrill and Rynne giggled.

Rynne elbowed him. “You have a riddle-solving dressing gown?”

“Yes,” Dorian said. “It’s made of the finest snoufleur fur and is very soft and cozy. Perfect for pondering mysterious riddles.”

Rynne snickered. “Do you spend so much time solving riddles that you need a special dressing gown?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Have you seen Piper’s handwriting? Deciphering it is a riddle in itself.”

Cullen rubbed his mouth. “Let’s try and focus, perhaps.”

His voice was dry with humour. Piper looked at him, and a wash of relief loosened her chest: he was smiling. 

He met her eye, and his smiled widened before he turned to Merrill once more. “‘Come as a friend to a friend’? What could that mean?”

They were all quiet for another moment. Then Dorian looked around at the walls. “Well, it has to be referring to someplace in this temple, yes? The place where we go to push and then pull, or whatever the riddle says?”

Rynne suddenly snapped her fingers. “Merrill, didn’t you say that one of the elvhen gods is called friend-something?”

Piper looked at her in surprise. “Falon’Din. The–”

“–god of death and friend of passing souls!” Merrill gasped. “That must be what it means! Oh, Hawke, how clever!”

“The god of death?” Fenris blurted. “That’s–”

Piper shot him a forbidding look. He scowled and folded his arms, and Rynne slid an arm around his waist and hugged him. “All right then,” she chirped. “So we’re looking for something to do with Falon’Din, the god of death.”

Cullen turned to Piper. “Didn’t you say that the mosaic over there was Ghil – um… the halla goddess?”

“Yes, it was Ghilan’nain–” She broke off and beamed at him. “Golden Boy, you’re a genius.” She turned to Merrill. “The mosaics on the wall. They show the elvhen gods! So–”

Merrill clapped and did a little hop. “The way to the Vir’Abelasan must be near the mosaic of Falon’Din! Oh, you’re all so clever, this is wonderful! Now which one shows Falon’Din?”

They all trooped off of the platform and began inspecting the mosaics one by one. It wasn’t long before they found the one that Merrill declared was Falon’Din: a shadowy figure rendered in darker glass.

She pointed at the top of the mosaic. “See the floating figures overhead? Souls of the dead that Falon’Din is shepherding into the beyond.”

Fenris grunted and folded his arms. “Now what?”

Piper looked at Merrill. “What was the next part of the riddle again?”

“Rise from the start and push to the end,” Merrill said promptly. 

They all looked at the mosaic once more. Then Rynne and Piper spoke at the same time.

“The riddle sounds pretty sexy–”

“Wording is rather sexy, don’t you think–?”

They broke off and looked at each other, then burst into laughter. Rynne slung her arm around Piper’s shoulders. “Oh Pipes, I can’t decide if you’re corrupting me or if it’s the other way around.”

Merrill tutted and poked their arms. “Come on, you two, you’re being so silly! Help us look for a clue! Rise from the start and–”

Dorian coughed and rubbed his mouth, and Merrill gave him a chiding look. “Oh Dorian, not you too.”

“It’s hardly my fault,” Dorian retorted. “They put the idea in my head.”

Rynne snickered dirtily. “Don’t pretend you’re not just as filthy as us.”

Dorian turned his nose up mockingly. Then Fenris’s dry voice pulled their attention. “Look at the base of the wall. There and there.”

They looked at where he was pointing, and Piper’s eyebrows rose. At the very bottom left corner of the mosaic, there was a slightly larger tile that looked a little bit out of place. She looked at the bottom right corner, and her belly jolted with excitement: there was a second tile that was also larger than the rest. 

She looked askance at Fenris. “How…?” 

He shrugged and folded his arms. “The start and the end, yes? If you imagine the start of the mosaic as the bottom corner, then...”

Merrill clapped her hands in delight. “Yes, that’s wonderful! Oh, Fenris, well done.”

He pursed his lips and didn’t reply, but Piper ignored his surliness and dropped to her knees near the right corner of the mosaic. She pushed on the larger tile, and to her surprise, the tile slid into the mosaic.

A sonorous _thunk_ from the platform made them all whip around to look. Rynne gasped. “What’s – something’s happening on the platform! Come on!” She grabbed Fenris’s hand, and they ran back toward the platform. As soon as they were halfway up the stairs, Rynne’s jaw dropped.

She looked at the others excitedly. “The floor is – there’s something like a… a fissure or a fault line in the floor! Maybe if you push the other tile, it’ll open up?”

Piper quickly shuffled over to the bottom left corner of the mosaic and pushed the tile, but nothing happened.

She frowned and pushed it harder, to no avail. Then Cullen crouched beside her. “The riddle said to push and rise,” he said. “You pushed the right side, so perhaps this side has to… rise, somehow?”

She wiggled her eyebrows. “Hmm, very fitting that you’re thinking about _rising_ , Golden Boy.”

He gave her a chiding little smile and playfully tugged a lock of her hair. “Perhaps we can try pulling on the tile.”

Piper gestured gallantly at the tile. “Please, be my guest.” 

He nodded, then shuffled closer to the mosaic and started feeling around the tile. “Ah,” he said softly. “I think I may be able to… Piper, may I borrow your dagger?”

She handed her dagger to him, and he wedged it carefully under the bottom margin of the larger tile. He pushed down carefully on the dagger, and the tile shifted slightly in the wall – along with the tile above it, and the one above that as well…?

Piper’s eyes widened. A column of about six tiles in the mosaic seemed to make up a handle or a shaft that was hidden in the wall.

“That’s it,” Cullen said enthusiastically. He handed the dagger back to Piper, then carefully pried the bottom tile out and pushed the hidden lever up.

A loud rumble reverberated through the temple, and Rynne’s voice cried out from the platform. “It’s working! It’s–” She broke off with a squeal, and Piper looked up in alarm to see Fenris pulling her back from the center of the platform. 

Piper pushed herself to her feet and ran over to the platform with the others in tow. She darted up to the top of the platform, and her jaw dropped: the mosaic making up the center of the floor had somehow retracted entirely, leaving a huge circular hole in the center of the platform.

Cullen peered over her shoulder. “Is that… stairs carved into the sides of the, er, mineshaft?”

“Ha. You said shaft,” Piper said absently, but she was too dumbstruck to make a more clever joke. Of all the things she’d seen in her life, a hidden mineshaft beneath the floor of a perfectly preserved elven temple was definitely the most unexpected.

“It’s not a mineshaft,” Merrill said excitedly. “It’s a well! This is it – the Well of Sorrows!” She eagerly stepped onto the stairs that ringed the sides of the well.

“Merrill, wait,” Cullen said hastily. He turned to Piper. “Are you certain–”

“Yes,” Piper said loudly. She jerked her chin at Merrill. “Go on. We’ll be right behind you.”

Merrill beamed at her, then grabbed Dorian’s hand. “Come on, Dorian, let’s go!” 

“Oh, wonderful,” Dorian said as Merrill pulled him down the stairs. “I always wanted to know what the inside of a subterranean well looked like. Oh wait, no I didn’t…”

Rynne giggled, then looked up at Fenris with a smile. “Ladies first?”

He raised an eyebrow at her. “You’re not a lady anymore, Hawke.”

“You’re exactly right,” she said brightly. She took a step toward the well, and Fenris grabbed her hand.

“I don’t think so,” he said. He stepped onto the stairs in front of her and frowned into the darkness for a moment, then glanced back at Rynne and Piper. “I hear no sounds of distress. Apparently Merrill and Dorian haven’t been eaten by monstrous creatures.”

Piper snorted, and Rynne laughed. “You’re awful, you know that?” She followed him down the stairs, leaving Piper and Cullen alone.

He took a deep breath, then bowed slightly to her. “Would you care to go first?”

Piper studied his face. His tone and expression were so polite, and it couldn’t have been more clear that there were things he was forcing himself not to say. 

Piper reached up and stroked his cheek. “I love you,” she said softly. “You know that, right?”

His eyes darted to her face. He looked slightly uncertain, and a surge of remorse stole her breath for a moment. 

She wrapped her arms around his waist. “I mean it, Cullen. I love you. You’d better know that, since you’re going to be my husband.” She smiled at him. “I heard you telling Ianto I was your fiancée. You sounded real proud to have a mad grey-haired elf for a wife.”

He smiled back at her, and Piper relaxed slightly as he ran his hands over her shoulders. “Of course I am proud. And I love you, too. I’m simply…” He pressed his lips together, then smiled again. “I’m with you on this, er, adventure. Let’s follow your crew now, before Fenris thinks _we_ were eaten by monstrous creatures.”

Piper chuckled, but she felt slightly uneasy as she slid out of Cullen’s embrace. Was it a relief that Cullen wasn’t trying to worry her any further, or was bad that he was holding back what he really thought?

She shunted the thought aside as she descended the stairs; there were more pressing issues at hand, specifically making sure she didn’t trip as she made her way down the tightly winding steps. Fortunately, the stairs widened gradually as the well opened from a tight cylinder into a broader cavern with roughly-hewn walls. 

Eventually the stone steps curved round a corner, and when Piper reached the bottom of the steps, she had to stop and stare for a breathless moment. They were standing in a wide underground cavern boasting a broad pool of water that was completely black and still. On the opposite side of the cavern was a short column of white stone with something green and glowing on top…

Piper stared at the green object. It seemed familiar somehow, like she’d seen it before. Like she’d almost… almost touched it before–

“Maker’s breath,” Cullen murmured, and Piper jolted slightly. “That mural is enormous. I can’t fathom how it was made.”

Piper followed his gaze, and her eyes widened even further. There was indeed a huge mural covering the wall to her left, and the others were all clustered around it.

Piper led Cullen over to the mural and stared up at it. “Well, I guess that clinches it,” she said. “This is definitely the Dread Wolf’s temple.” The mural depicted a stylized wolf with glowing red eyes, and at the very center of the mural was a large black circle decorated with swirling green lines.

“Exactly,” Merrill said excitedly. “And that circle shows the gem from the dreams!”

A fresh jolt of alarm rocketed through Piper’s belly, and she whipped around to stare at Merrill. Meanwhile, Dorian was frowning curiously at them. “Gem from your dreams?” he said. “Are you saying you three have literally been dreaming about treasure?” He chuckled and folded his arms. “That’s so ridiculously pirate-y, I hardly know where to begin making fun of it.”

Piper took a step closer to Merrill. “You dreamed about the – about a… glowing green thing, then?”

“Yes,” Merrill said cheerfully. “That must be what this circle is showing.” She pointed at the mural, then at the column on the other side of the pool. “And _that_ must be the gem itself.”

Rynne frowned worriedly up at Fenris. “You dreamt about this, too?”

He scraped a hand through his hair. “I… I didn’t know what it was.”

“Well, let’s go find out,” Merrill said, and without waiting for a response, she started off toward the column.

“Merrill,” Fenris barked. 

She ignored him and continued toward the column. As Piper followed Merrill toward the column with its glimmering green apex, Cullen took her hand. 

She twined her fingers tightly with his, but kept her eyes on the path ahead – _I’m Captain Mad Piper, I’m not scared of anything,_ she thought – and when they reached the column itself, she released his hand and boldly stepped up to peer at the green object.

It was a heavy-looking orb that seemed to be carved from one single large piece of jade. The surface of the perfectly spherical orb was carved with intricate swirling lines, and the longer Piper stared at it, the more it seemed to glow.

She tore her eyes away from it and turned to Merrill, who was standing beside her and gazing at the orb with wide eyes. “You see that, right?” she said.

“See what?” Cullen said tensely. 

“It’s glowing,” Merrill said dreamily. “Just like in the dreams. We should take it.”

“No,” Fenris barked. “Piper, don’t touch it.”

She glanced over her shoulder at him. Despite the anger that was twisting his face, his eyes, like Merrill’s, were fixed on the orb as well. 

“You see it too, Fen?” she asked.

He cut her a sharp look. “I see enough to know this bodes poorly. Don’t touch it.”

Dorian raised an eyebrow at the orb. “For what it’s worth, I don’t see any glowing.”

“Me neither,” Rynne said. 

“I don’t see it either,” Cullen said. “Piper, I think–”

“Fen’Harel wants us to take it,” Merrill interrupted. “Listen!”

Piper rubbed her mouth. She didn’t want to listen to that whispering voice again – the voice that was humming at the back of her mind more loudly than when they were upstairs, murmuring and whispering more insistently… 

Merrill rested a hand on her forearm. “This is what we came here for. Fen’Harel wants us to take this treasure, Piper. It’s our birthright – it’s _our_ blood that let us come this far!” She squeezed Piper’s arm gently. “Imagine how much you could sell this for. The Lady Luck wouldn’t need to do another raid for more than a year!”

Piper looked at her in surprise. “You’re okay with selling this? It’s an ancient elven artifact.”

“I told you, the treasure I really wanted was this knowledge,” Merrill said earnestly. “To know that places like this still exist. That who we were – who we _are_ isn’t lost.” She patted her pouch. “The rubbings I got: these are what I really wanted. This is our true heritage, Piper, not a piece of jade.” She propped one fist on her hip. “I think Fen’Harel would praise our cleverness in getting here, and this is our reward.”

“This is not a reward,” Fenris said loudly. “This is a mistake. That orb clearly carries some sort of curse.”

Merrill shot him an annoyed look. “It’s not a curse. It’s a blessing.”

“You don’t know that!” Fenris yelled. “You think you know everything, but you don’t. You haven’t even translated the entirety of that charcoal rubbing in your bag! What if it explains what happened to those dead men in the courtyard? Something you’ve failed to account for, need I remind you.”

Merrill tutted. “Fenris, there’s no need to shout.”

“There is, because you’re not listening,” he snarled. He glared at Piper. “Do not touch that orb, Piper. It bodes poorly, and you know it.”

Piper scowled at his bossy tone. “She’s right, Fen. This thing is extremely valuable.”

He dragged a hand through his hair. “You can’t be serious!”

“Look at it!” Piper said. She gestured at the orb. “A huge piece of sculpted ancient elven jade? We can sell it to a collector for thousands of royals! Tens of thousands, maybe, if Varric can swing it. It’ll keep the crew in coin for over a year for sure!”

_And it’ll mean they didn’t go through this for nothing,_ she thought, but she kept that to herself. Of course the coin wouldn’t make up for the people they’d lost, but at least it would mean their suffering wasn’t in vain. It would mean she hadn’t brought her crew through a horrific storm to this hostile and uncanny place for no good reason.

Fenris folded his arms. “And if it’s cursed?”

“For Mythal’s sake, it is not cursed!” Merrill yelled.

Fenris ignored her and continued to stare at Piper. She ignored the nauseating writhing in her belly and scoffed at him. “Don’t be stupid. There’s no such thing as curses.”

Cullen stepped close to her and placed a hand a the center of her back. “Piper, please. I would ask you to leave this be.”

She gave him an affronted look. “Seriously?”

He lowered his voice. “I know you don’t want to hear this. You don’t want me to say it–”

She scowled and tried to pull away from him. “Cullen, don’t.”

He slid his hand around her waist so she couldn’t escape. “I can tell how scared you are,” he said in a quiet but insistent tone. “If you don’t want to take this gem–”

“I have to take it,” she said loudly. “It’s going to feed my crew for more than a year.”

“You don’t have to do anything,” Cullen retorted. “If you’re sensing some sort of danger here–”

She glared at him. “I’m not scared of danger, Golden Boy. I’m Captain Mad Piper.” Before she could think any further, she reached out and picked up the orb.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ALL PRAISE SCHOUTE FOR THE ART. STEP ASIDE, SOLAS, WE HAVE A NEW MURAL PAINTER IN TOWN. 
> 
> I am [Pikapeppa on Tumblr,](https://pikapeppa.tumblr.com/) and your artist and creator is [Schoute!](https://schoute.tumblr.com/) xoxo


	35. Sorrow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgive me for the long-ass wait I gave you after that cliffhanger. FORGIVE ME.

###  CULLEN 

_Don’t_ , he thought, but it was too late. The jade orb was already in Piper’s hand.

He darted his gaze to her face. She and Merrill were staring at the orb, Piper with a frown and Merrill with huge wondering eyes, and… nothing was happening. 

Cullen released a slow breath. Of course nothing was happening. It was just a piece of jade, after all, so of course nothing was happening. 

He ignored the anxious buzz in his chest and frowned at her. “Now that you have what you came for, might we return to the ship?”

“Yes, quite,” Dorian said. “Or at least to the upper part of the temple. It’s far more charming than this, er, rustic cavern.” He grimaced at the glassy black surface of the pool that occupied most of the cave. 

Hawke grinned at him. “What’s the matter, Dorian? Not fond of dark and scary caves?”

“Shockingly enough, no,” Dorian said. “Are you?”

“I don’t mind,” she said cheerfully. She patted Fenris’s arm. “Not since I have this big handsome elf to… Fenris, are you all right?”

Cullen looked at Fenris. He was scowling, but his eyes were fixed on the orb in Piper’s hand. 

Cullen turned to look at her once more. She and Merrill were still staring at the orb, even though nothing was happening. 

“Piper,” he said loudly. “We should return to the Lady Luck.”

It was Fenris who replied. “It’s pulsing,” he said blankly. “The orb. It’s… pulsing.”

Cullen gazed at the orb with growing alarm. It wasn’t pulsing. It wasn’t doing a blasted thing. But everything that had been happening revolved around the elves, and Cullen wasn’t an elf…

He took a step closer to her. “Piper–”

The orb suddenly burst into light, and Cullen flinched at the intensity. The light was blindingly green like a firework flare, making Dorian jump in alarm while Fenris pulled Hawke against his chest, and Piper…

She was gaping at the orb, and her hazel eyes were huge and scared. 

She looked scared. Piper looked visibly scared. Since the moment they’d sailed into the storm, she’d been trying so hard to pretend she wasn’t scared. Now, to see the fear spilling across her face like wine on a tablecloth… 

Cullen grasped her arm. “Put it down!” he commanded. “Piper, drop the orb!”

“I can’t,” she snapped. “I’m trying, I – my fucking fingers are stuck!”

“The water!” Hawke cried. “It’s – there’s something in it!” 

Cullen looked up, and his jaw dropped in shock. The surface of the pool was no longer a smooth and glassy surface. It was writhing with movement now, almost as though something below the surface was rippling and shifting. 

He turned to Piper once more. The orb was still flaring with light, and Cullen squinted as he reached for it. “Piper, we need to leave this place. You must leave this here. I’m–”

“No!” she blurted, and she tucked it against her chest. “Don’t touch it, it’s–”

“It is worthless if we fall prey to this uncanny danger!” he shouted. “Leave the blasted orb and let us take our leave!”

“I can’t!” she bellowed. “It’s – _ah!_ ” She clutched her left wrist and hunched over. Her face was twisted in a snarl, and the orb was still clasped firmly in her left hand.

Cullen’s chest seized with fear. He curved his arm around her. “What’s wrong? Is it hurting you?” he demanded. 

She sucked in a breath through her teeth. “I’m trying to – fucking – drop it,” she gritted. “I…” Her fingers were trembling with effort, and as the seconds ticked by without her dropping the orb, Cullen’s panic ratcheted higher. 

He reached for the orb again, determined to pry it from her hand if he had to. Before he could knock it away, something burst out of it: a thick greenish fog that rose into the air, roiling madly like steam from a kettle. 

He recoiled in shock, and as he watched in horror, the mist gathered and above them before splitting apart into clouds. 

One cloud shot away toward the stairs and out of sight, and Dorian grimaced. “I don’t think that’s a good thing,” he said in a shaking voice. 

“Those voices aren’t good either,” Hawke said. She looked up at Fenris and clutched his arm, which was clasped tightly around her waist. “Is that what you’ve been hearing all this time?” 

Cullen dragged in a breath. Now that she mentioned it, he could hear voices too. It sounded like someone – _many_ someones – crying out in pain. But the cries were muted, as though he was hearing them through a brick wall. 

“Look out!” Fenris barked.

Cullen looked up, and his whole body seized with terror. The green fog was plunging toward him and Piper–

He dragged her against his chest and squeezed his eyes shut. Dorian cried out in shock, and Hawke let out a strangled little scream, and the muted cries of pain sounded louder than before… 

“Cole?” Dorian yelped. “What are you– How–?”

Cullen looked up. Cole was – _Cole_ was here? Cole was _here?_ What in the Maker’s name was Cole doing here? 

He gaped at Cole in shock. The pale young man looked dishevelled and scared, but he was bent over a crouching Dorian, and the green fog was peeling away from them and off toward the stairs. 

But the fog wasn’t leaving Fenris and Hawke alone. Fenris’s face was a picture of terror, and Hawke…

Her body was arched and rigid like a bow in Fenris’s arms. Her mouth was open, like a silent gasp for air, and the fog was pouring into her open mouth.

“No,” Fenris rasped. “S-stop…” He tried to cover her mouth, but the fog poured through his fingers and between her lips. 

A split second later, almost faster than Cullen could blink, the fog retreated from her body and plunged into the writhing black pool. A soft wail of despair rose from the pool, and the hair on Cullen’s arms stood on end. 

_That_ was where the cries of sorrow were coming from. They were emanating from this pool, this roiling tar-black pool full of… of what, exactly? It wasn’t just water. It couldn’t be. Water didn’t behave like this, like it was trying to roll its way out of the confines of its own receptacle.

A solid _thunk_ made him jump. The orb had finally dropped from Piper’s fingers, and it was no longer flaring with light. 

She slumped against his chest. “Fuck,” she whimpered.

He released a heavy breath, but there was no time for relief; she was cradling her left hand against her chest as though it was injured. Before he could say anything about it, Fenris’s sharp voice rang through the cavern. 

“Hawke!” he barked. “Hawke, look at me. _Hawke!_ ”

Cullen looked up once more, and a dull thump of horror twisted in his gut. Hawke was lying on the ground, and Fenris was patting her face and shaking her shoulders, but she wasn’t moving at all.

“Damn it,” Piper hissed. She disentangled herself from Cullen’s arms and pushed herself upright. “Cole, what the bloody _fuck_ are you doing here?” she demanded, and she stumbled over to Hawke and Fenris.

Cole looked at her anxiously as he helped Dorian to his feet. “I tried to help. I… it was too much,” he stammered. “Too much time alone, twisting tighter until he was raw with rage. Too raw, too angry, I – I didn’t know. I wanted to help, but I didn’t know.” He wrung his hands together. “I’m sorry.”

Piper gaped at him. “What are you– you know what, never mind.” She fell to her knees and shook Hawke’s shoulder. “Rynne. Hey, Rynne!” She lightly slapped Hawke’s cheek.

Hawke didn’t move. Dorian crouched beside her and pinched her earlobe, and she still didn’t move. 

Dorian reached for Hawke’s chest, and Fenris shoved his hand away. “What are you doing?” he demanded.

“Trying to bother her into moving,” Dorian said. “If I hurt her just enough, it might startle her into waking up. I’ve seen Anders do it before.” He gave Fenris a chiding look. “I’m hardly going to try and cop a feel, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

Fenris scowled and gestured for Dorian to proceed, and Dorian reached over and rubbed Hawke’s sternum with his knuckles. 

Cullen winced slightly; the motion looked quite uncomfortable indeed, but Hawke still wasn’t moving. 

Piper tapped her fingers nervously on her legs. “Come on, Rynne, this is no time for a nap…”

Dorian rubbed Hawke’s breastbone for a good ten seconds, and everyone waited in silence for her to react. The muffled howling of the pool was the only sound in the cave, and it only served to set Cullen’s nerves further on edge. 

Dorian finally sat back and rubbed his mouth. “Fenris, I… I’m not sure–”

“Don’t,” Fenris said. “Don’t say anything.”

He sounded like he’d been punched in the gut. He inhaled shakily, then carefully pulled Hawke’s limp body into his arms.

He brushed the hair back from her face and patted her cheek. “Hawke,” he said quietly. “Open your eyes. Open them right now.” 

He kept murmuring to her and trying to shake her awake. Dorian bowed his head, and Cullen stared at her with a dull sort of disbelief. Hawke wasn’t… No, she couldn’t be. She hadn’t been hurt. She hadn’t been struck or stabbed. It was just that fog that had touched her. It was just fog, and fog couldn’t hurt anyone… 

Fenris roughly wiped his face, then pinched her earlobe hard like Dorian had done. “Rynne,” he said in a choked voice. “Open your eyes.” 

A lump rose in Cullen’s throat. Then Piper pounded her fist on the ground. “Fuck,” she hissed. “ _Fuck!_ ” 

Her voice rang harshly through the cavern, and the echo blended ominously into the muted wails of sorrow from the still-writhing pool. For a long, horrible moment, no one spoke or moved.

Then something shifted behind Cullen’s back. 

He flinched and whipped around. It was Merrill. She’d been silent through the entire ordeal, but when Cullen turned to face her, it was to find her picking up the jade orb.

“Don’t touch that!” he blurted.

She ignored him and lifted the orb into her hands. “It’s safe now,” she said. “No pulsing or glowing at all, I swear.”

Her voice was soft and calm, but her face was white with shock. Her gaze travelled over Hawke’s still form, and her eyes filled with tears.

“Oh, Hawke,” she breathed. She sidled around Cullen and padded toward the others, but Fenris shot her a venomous glare.

“Stay back,” he snapped. “Don’t come any closer.”

Merrill stopped. “I just want–”

“What?” Fenris barked. “What more do you want? Everything that has happened here was exactly what you wanted!”

Merrill flinched as though he’d struck her. “How can you say that? I didn’t want this to happen!”

“What else did you expect?” he yelled. “You ignored every sign of danger, every bad omen in our path, and you expected something better than disaster?”

Piper rubbed her face as Fenris continued to rail at Merrill. “You’re naive – no, you are worse than naive. You are prideful. Refusing to admit that you were wrong–”

She tried to interrupt him. “I wasn’t wro–”

“You were wrong!” he roared. “You said no harm would come to them! You _swore_ they would be safe, and look what’s – she’s–” His face crumpled with distress, and he buried his face against Hawke’s neck.

No one spoke for a moment, and only the pool’s stifled moans of sorrow broke the silence. Then Merrill spoke in a shaking voice. “This wasn’t supposed to happen. I thought… m-my translations…”

“ _Vishante kaffas_ ,” Fenris said. He lifted his head and glared at her with reddened eyes. “Your translations were wrong.”

Dorian rose to his feet. “Merrill, you didn’t have time to translate everything,” he said gently. “If we’d had more time, then perhaps…” 

“We can’t think like that,” Piper said. 

Cullen looked at her. Her expression was tense and angry. “We can’t just sit here moaning about what we should have done,” she said. “We have to get back to the Lady Luck.”

“You’re right,” Cullen said. “We must return to the ship as fast as possible.”

“ _Kaffas_ ,” Dorian said suddenly. “That fog. If it left the temple–”

“–it could attack the rest of the crew,” Cullen finished grimly. 

Merrill clapped her hands over her mouth in horror, and Piper shoved herself to her feet. “No,” she said fiercely. “No fucking chance. It’s not getting my crew. Come on, we have to–”

“She’s alive,” Fenris said.

They all looked at him. His eyes were huge as he stared at Hawke’s face. “She’s – she’s breathing,” he rasped.

Piper’s jaw dropped. “She is?”

“Yes,” Fenris said. “It’s slow, but she’s – I-I think…?” 

Piper’s face lit up with hope. She fell to her knees again and reached eagerly for Hawke’s shoulder. “Here, let me check–”

“No,” Fenris blurted, and he shied away from her.

She recoiled slightly as Fenris looked up at Dorian. “Can you – will you check? I’m not…”

“Yes, of course,” Dorian said quickly, and he dropped down beside them. He placed one hand on Hawke’s chest and tilted his ear toward her mouth. 

Cullen tapped his pommel tensely as they waited for Dorian’s verdict. Finally he looked up at them with a grin. “She’s breathing. She’s alive!” 

Cullen dragged in a relieved breath. “Thank the Maker,” he said.

Piper covered her face briefly, then dragged her hands through her hair and stood up again. “We have to get her to Anders right away. He’ll make her better. Fen, you’ve got her?”

“Yes,” he said. “Let’s go.” He carefully lifted Hawke over his shoulders as he rose to his feet.

Cullen stepped away from the platform and glanced toward the pool, which was still seething and emitting an unnerving sound of sorrow. Cole was standing by the edge of the pool and wringing his hands. 

“Cole,” he called out. “Come along.”

Cole turned away from the pool and followed him toward Piper and the others. “I wanted to help,” he said shakily. “I thought I could help, but I was gone too long. He wanted justice, not revenge, but the faces were too close. ” 

“You can tell us more when we’ve left this place,” Cullen said curtly. He hurried toward Piper, who was waiting impatiently by the mouth of the stairs.

He smoothed his hand over her hair. “Are you–?”

“I’m fine,” she said harshly. “Rynne is the one who needs attention.” She lowered her voice. “Fenris will insist on carrying her the whole way back. We can’t let him. He’ll wear himself out trying to get her back on his own.” 

“All right,” Cullen said tensely. He glanced at her left hand, which was tucked into her folded arms. “Are you certain you’re well? Before, it looked as though–”

“You are not bringing that orb!” Fenris yelled.

Cullen and Piper whipped around. Fenris was glaring at Merrill, who was still holding the jade orb in her hands. 

“That thing is cursed!” he shouted. “It is not coming with us!”

Merrill opened her mouth, but whatever she was going to say was drowned out by Piper’s sharp command. “No,” she said. “Bring the orb, Merrill.”

Cullen gaped at her, shocked and frankly disappointed. After the damage the orb had wrought, Piper still wanted it?

Fenris glared at her, apparently equally horrified. “Piper, that damned orb caused this to happen! You can’t–”

“I’m the captain, and I say the orb is coming with us,” Piper snapped. “Do you want to stay here and argue, or do you want to fucking move?”

Cullen recoiled at her outburst. Fenris curled his lip in disgust, but finally he nodded. “Captain,” he growled. 

She jerked her head at the stairs. “Go on,” she said. “All of you, go on. Let’s get moving.”

The others ran up the stairs ahead of her. Just before he stepped onto the stairs, Cullen glanced back at the writhing black pool. The way its surface rippled like something was trying to escape, and the stifled wails of sorrow…

The hairs at the back of his neck stood on end. Then Piper patted his bottom. “Go on, Golden Boy. Get moving.”

He glanced warily at her. Despite her words and her playful pat, her face and voice were hard. 

He placed his hand at the center of her back. “Come, Piper. We’ll go together.” 

She frowned, but allowed him to usher her up the stairs. A minute later, they were running through the forest as quickly as Hawke’s limp weight would allow. 

“Cole,” Dorian panted, “Do you mind telling us how in the Maker’s name you showed up here out of the blue? Were you following us the whole time?”

“No,” Cole said. “I was there before you came.” He looked at Piper. “I told him you were here to help: caring and protection like the one he lost. Kindness to soothe the wolf. But he was too angry. It was too much, too raw, too sore to be soothed.” 

“‘Him’?” Dorian said. “‘Him’ who?”

Merrill gasped. “Fen’Harel! ‘Kindness to soothe the wolf’ – he must mean Fen’Harel!” She glanced at Cole with wide eyes. “You were there to visit Fen’Harel?”

“Yes,” Cole said. “But it’s worse than when I left.”

“Left?” Dorian said. “What do you mean, ‘left’? We just arrived here.”

“Cole is from here,” Merrill exclaimed. “He’s from this forest. Aren’t you, Cole?” Without waiting for a reply, she tapped on Piper’s arm. “You never could remember where you picked him up.”

“It wasn’t from here, I can tell you that,” Piper said. 

Her tone was very flat. Cullen shot her a worried glance, but Merrill was talking to Cole again. “I always wondered why you were so, um, odd! Are you an elven god, too?” she asked excitedly. “Maybe one we’ve never heard about? Did you know Fen’Harel from living here before?”

“He was my friend before the dread,” Cole said. “Softer before, a whisper of wisdom to the people, walking sometimes as a wolf. But he met her, and everything changed. Love and laughter, loving him like a man and not a god.”

“Who?” Merrill said eagerly. “Who was the ‘she’?”

“Lavellan,” Cole said.

Piper shot him a look of surprise, and a jolt of alarm pulsed through Cullen’s chest. “What?” he blurted.

“She was the first, before the clans,” Cole said. “She was real, and he wanted to be real with her. So he took a body, and they were real together for a time, but not long enough.”

Cullen looked at Piper in confusion, but she only shrugged. “I don’t know anything about this,” she said blankly. “I – my father never mentioned…”

She trailed off and tugged one of her braids, and Merrill turned to Cole once more. “What happened then? Why weren’t they together for long enough?”

“Because the others came,” Cole said sadly.

Merrill’s eyes went wide. “The humans,” she breathed. “You mean human slavers, don’t you?”

Cole nodded. “Torn away, taken, and he was too real to stop it. Hurt and hurting, harrowed and alone. He begged for a boon, pledging himself to an old friend, and he became a god again.” He gazed pleadingly at Merrill. “But it wasn’t like before. Not wisdom, but dread. Not a whisper, but a howl. He wanted justice, but she made him revenge.”

“Who are you talking about now?” Cullen demanded. “Not Lavellan, I suppose?” He didn’t mean to be so irritable, but he didn’t understand why Cole needed to speak in riddles, especially if the story he was telling would explain how Piper was connected to all of this. 

“No,” Cole said. “Mother of justice, protective and fierce–”

“Mythal,” Merrill interrupted. “You – you’re talking about Mythal! Mythal turned Fen’Harel into a god again?”

“Wait a minute,” Dorian protested. “You mean to say that not only Fen’Harel is real, but another of the elven gods too?” 

Cullen was worried as well. “If this Mythal is also real, should we be concerned about a secondary threat?” he asked Cole and Merrill.

Cole shook his head. “She’s silent now, watching and waiting: favours for those who petition, punishment for those who demand. He just wanted to be real,” he said sadly. “But he couldn’t be real without the one he loved. _She_ made him not real again. Once a wolf, clever and wise, now a monster.” He wrung his hands together and gazed sadly at Piper. “I wanted to help, but I was too late. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t fret, Cole. You did help,” Dorian said encouragingly. “You stopped that terrible fog from attacking me.”

For the first time since leaving the cavern, Fenris spoke up. “You didn’t help enough,” he said harshly to Cole. “It attacked Hawke!”

Piper shot him a frown. “Fenris, take it easy–”

“Stop trying to silence me!” he yelled. He slowed down and adjusted Hawke’s weight over his shoulders. “This should never have happened. If we hadn’t come out to this cursed forest, this would never have happened!”

“It’s not your fault,” Cole told him.

“I know that,” Fenris snarled.

“You know, but you don’t _know_ ,” Cole said. “You came because she wanted you to.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t allow her to come on these outings if they end up this way,” Fenris retorted.

Piper frowned at this, but Cole shook his head. “She loves adventure, and she loves you. You didn’t make her choose. You make her happy.”

Cullen shot Cole an odd look. How did Cole seem to know such intimate things about Hawke and Fenris?

“She _was_ happy!” Fenris retorted. “And now she’s–” His voice cracked, and he broke off and clenched his jaw.

“She’s not going to die, Fen,” Piper said fiercely. “Anders will fix this.”

Cole took a step toward him. “She never wanted a protector. She wanted you. You gave her what she wanted. It isn’t your fault.”

“Shut your mouth,” Fenris snapped. He shifted Hawke slightly on his shoulder, and a tear ran down his face. 

Cullen held out a hand. “Fenris, allow me carry her for a stretch,” he said.

Fenris shrugged him off. “I don’t need your help.”

“For fuck’s sake, let him carry her,” Piper commanded. “You’ll only slow us down if you don’t let us take turns.”

Fenris glowered at her, but she steadily returned his stare. A tense moment later, he nodded. 

Cullen carefully took Hawke’s limp body, and Fenris roughly wiped his face as they set off at a run. Once again, it was Dorian who broke the silence. “So that fog was… Fen’Harel, then? Fen’Harel the Dread Fog?”

“This is not funny,” Fenris snarled.

“It certainly isn’t,” Dorian said. “Especially since we don’t know where the dread fog has gone. If this Fen’Harel fellow is bent on taking revenge on humans, and I was only spared thanks to Cole, why is Cullen all right?”

“That’s true,” Merrill said. She looked at Cullen with wide eyes. “The fog bounced away from you, like it did to Cole and Dorian. I saw.”

“Why?” Piper said. “What saved him? We need to know in case the fog comes back. If it tries to–” She broke off and pressed her lips together, then spoke again in a hard tone. “Until we figure out how to kill this Fen’Harel fog, we need to keep the rest of the crew safe. I need to know how to keep Cullen safe.” She shot Merrill a sharp look. “Can your rubbings from the temple tell us that?”

“I – I’m not sure,” Merrill said nervously.

“Can you figure it out?” Piper asked.

“Yes, of course,” Merrill said. “As soon as we’re back on the Lady Luck. I’ll translate all night if I have to.”

“Good,” Piper said. “Thanks.”

Her tone was very hard. Cullen shot her a concerned look, but her expression was stonelike and her jaw was set, and she was refusing to look at him.

They ran through the forest for hours. They stopped every fifteen minutes or so to transfer Hawke among themselves, with Fenris insisting on bearing her weight most of the time and Piper insisting just as stringently on carrying her a few times as well. 

As they made their way back to the Lady Luck, Cullen tried to wrap his mind around everything that had happened. They’d opened a secret cavern that had been sealed for Maker knew how long, activated a curse – thereby proving that curses were real – and seen Hawke get attacked by that curse, thereby proving that the elven god Fen’Harel was real. And if Merrill was right in her interpretation of Cole’s vague blather, it was possible that they’d had a god on the Lady Luck all along, disguised in the form of a harmless young man. 

He shot Cole a nervous look. If Cole was an elven god or something of the like, maybe that explained his strange way of talking, and the strange way he knew what Fenris was thinking. 

_I wonder if he can tell what all of us are thinking,_ Cullen thought worriedly. Now that was an unnerving thought. 

He glanced at Piper, whose face was creased in a scowl as they ran through the forest. Honestly, at this moment, he rather wished he could read people’s thoughts. If he could, then he might know what Piper was really thinking, since she refused to speak to him. 

Despite the urgency of the situation, a pang of loneliness squeezed his heart. He reached out and tried to take Piper’s hand.

She pulled her hand away from him. If not for her sharp intake of breath, he would have thought she was brushing him off again. 

Anxious now, he reached for her again and squeezed her arm. “Are you certain you’re all right?”

“I’m conscious, aren’t I?” she said sharply. “I’m fine. There’s nothing to worry about.”

Her left fist was clenched and tucked against her belly now. Her posture and her words were defensive, making it obvious that her bravado was just that: a mask for something being truly wrong. 

All of a sudden, Cullen had had enough of her deflection. “Piper, show me your hand,” he demanded.

“No,” she said immediately. “Why? It’s nothing.”

Her cagey response set his teeth on edge. “Show me your hand,” he insisted.

She shot him a glare. “There’s nothing to show!” 

Cullen stepped in front of her, forcing her to stop. “Piper, let me see your hand.”

“What are you doing?” she demanded. “We need to keep going!”

He held out his hand. “Give me your left hand. Right now.”

“Get out of my way!” she snapped.

“Not until you show me your hand,” he said.

She squared her shoulders and took an aggressive step toward him, and Dorian slowed to a stop beside them. “What’s happening here?” he panted. “You two aren’t going to kiss, are you? I’m sorry to tell you this, but it really isn’t the time...”

Fenris stumbled to a stop as well. “What are you doing?” he demanded. He adjusted Hawke’s position on his shoulders. “We need to move!”

Cullen ignored them. “Piper, show me your hand.”

“It’s fine!” she retorted. “There’s nothing wrong with it!”

“We are not moving from this spot until you show me your hand,” he said doggedly.

She folded her arms obstinately, and Fenris snapped. “Show him your fucking hand so we can move on!” he roared.

Piper glared viciously at him, then thrust her left fist at Cullen.

He carefully opened her fingers, and his stomach plummeted. In the middle of Piper’s left hand, embedded in fissures of her palm, there was a flickering green light – a light that looked like the firework-bright flickering from the cursed orb. 

Fenris recoiled, and Merrill gasped. “Oh, Piper…” 

She snatched her hand back from Cullen and shoved it in her pocket. “It’s fine,” she insisted. “It’s not a big deal. It doesn’t even hurt. Let’s go.” She tried to push past Cullen, but he pulled her to a stop and cradled her face in his hands.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked.

She pushed his hands away and pointed accusingly at him. “Because of this look on your face!”

He drew back in surprise. “What look?”

“This scared look!” she yelled. “You look scared, and I hate it when you look scared because–”  
She broke off and gritted her teeth, then straightened and pointed at him again. “Stop looking scared. There’s no reason to be scared. I’m not hurt, and Rynne’s not going to fucking die. _If_ we get back to the Lady Luck, that is.” She waved angrily at their surroundings. “If we keep standing here talking, on the other hand–”

“If I might interrupt,” Dorian called out, “you may want to look at this.”

They all looked over to where Dorian and Cole were standing about ten paces away, and Piper’s posture softened. “ _Fenedhis_. Is that…?”

They picked their way through the ferns toward Cole and Dorian, and Cullen’s eyes widened as he beheld the three bodies on the ground. “Maker’s breath. Those were Ianto’s men.”

“Ianto’s deserters, you mean,” Dorian said. “Are they…?”

Piper crouched beside one of them and held her hand near his mouth and nose. Cullen, meanwhile, straightened with a sudden realization. “Those skeletons outside the temple,” he said. “The way they all seemed to drop on the spot–”

Merrill gasped. “Like what happened to Hawke!”

“Precisely,” Cullen said. “I wonder if those skeletons – those _men_ were attacked by the fog as well, a long time ago.”

“But they were dead,” Fenris said tensely. “Hawke isn’t dead.”

Piper stood up. “These fellows are breathing. The fog didn’t kill them either.”

Cole wrung his hands together. “He doesn’t kill them. He steals them, seals them in sorrow for revenge.”

Merrill clapped a hand over her mouth. “Sorrow. The – the Vir’Abelasan! The Well of Sorrows…” She trailed off, and her face went slack with horror. “Oh no. Oh no. That’s what the Well of Sorrows is. A pool of stolen souls…?”

Dorian nervously rubbed his chin. “Without their, er, souls, it seems that the victims don’t move. Which means they don’t eat or drink…” 

“And that must be how those men around the temple died,” Cullen said. “They starved to death.”

Fenris inhaled sharply and pressed his lips together, and Piper glared at all of them. “Rynne is not going to starve to death,” she snapped. “Come on.” She bolted away through the forest again. 

Fenris followed close at her heels despite the weight of Hawke’s body slung across his shoulders, and Cullen and the others bolted after her.

Less than an hour later, they burst out of the forest and onto the beach. Then Varric’s distant voice called out from the ship. “Captain! Andraste’s ass, it’s good to see you.”

Piper didn’t reply; she continued to run full-tilt for the ship, and Varric called out again. “Shit. Is that Hawke–?”

“Get Anders,” Fenris bellowed. “And send down the dinghy.” 

Cullen, who was carrying Hawke now, helped Fenris to load her into the dinghy. A couple of tense minutes later, they were laying her on the deck of the Lady Luck, and Varric’s face was tense with worry as he and some of the crew hurried over. 

“Shit,” he cursed. “Not Hawke too.”

Cullen looked up in alarm. Had the Lady Luck–? But no, there were human crew members crowding around now, so what…?

“ _Fenedhis,_ ” Piper hissed. “How many are down?”

“Three,” Varric said. “Sutherland, Shayde, and Marie.”

_All humans,_ Cullen thought as Varric went on. “Sera was with them. She said a green fog came down and, uh, went into their mouths…?”

“We know,” Piper said curtly. “We’ll explain soon. Where the fuck is Anders?”

Fenris looked over his shoulder. “Anders!” he hollered.

“I’m here, I’m here!” Anders stepped out of the crew quarters and hurried toward them. “Maker’s bloody breath, hold your– oh, no. Damn it, Hawke…” He dropped to his knees beside her and squeezed her shoulder.

“Can you cure her?” Fenris said.

To Cullen’s dismay, Anders shook his head. “I haven’t been able to wake the others. But I can–”

“Why not?” Fenris demanded. “This is your job! Why can’t you–”

“We don’t even know what’s wrong with them!” Anders exclaimed. “What do you expect me to do if we don’t know what’s wrong with them? Curing people isn’t magic, it’s medicine. My treatments are based on knowledge, and if I don’t know what’s going on–”

“What can you do, then?” Fenris said tensely. “You need to do something. What if she – I don’t want her to starve, or…”

“She won’t starve,” Anders said. “Not for– er, don’t worry about that. I’ll give her fluids.”

“She can’t drink them,” Fenris snapped. “She’ll choke!”

“I know that, Fenris, I’m not a bloody idiot,” Anders snapped back. “Just get her to the infirmary, will you?”

“No,” he retorted. “She stays in my room.”

Anders slumped in exasperation. “I’m treating all of the others in the infirmary! It’ll be easier–”

“She stays in my room!” Fenris shouted.

“Anders,” Piper said loudly, “just let her stay in his room.”

Anders let out a harsh sigh. “ _Fine._ What precious Fenris wants, he gets. Up we go, Hawke.” He reached down to start lifting her up, but Fenris brushed him aside. 

“I’ve got her,” he said. He rose to his knees and reached down for Hawke, but lost his balance and stumbled over before he could fully stand. 

Anders rolled his eyes. “For Maker’s bloody sake, just let me do it. I’ll get her to your room without any further harm, I promise.” He picked Hawke up easily and carried her toward the officer’s quarters.

Fenris exhaled heavily and covered his face with one trembling hand. Piper crouched down beside him. “Fen, she’s going to be fine.”

He shied away from her with a glare. “You don’t know that,” he snapped. 

“Yes I do,” Piper said firmly. “I’m going to fix this.”

“And how do you plan to do that?” he demanded. He shakily pushed himself to his feet. “Are you going to dive into that Well of Sorrows and drag her soul out of it?”

“Woah. What?” Varric said blankly.

Dorian made a little face. “It’s a long story…” He pulled Varric aside and began murmuring to him. Piper, meanwhile, was facing Fenris with her arms folded.

“If that’s what I have to do, then yes, I will,” she retorted.

“That’s not– that’s not the point!” Fenris said. “You can’t fix everything! There is no neat solution for every disaster that arises!”

“Well, I’m going to figure this one out,” Piper insisted. “Merrill will translate her rubbings and we’ve got this orb–”

Fenris dragged his hands through his hair. “That orb,” he snarled. “Why are you so fixated on that blasted orb?”

“We might need it to undo the soul-eating thing!” Piper said. “I didn’t want to risk leaving it behind. Besides, when I’ve fixed this and Rynne and Marie and the others are back to themselves, we can still sell–”

“ _Vishante kaffas,_ ” he spat. “You are obsessed with making a profit!”

Her eyes widened. “I am not! I need to look after the crew. This can’t have been–” She broke off and scowled at him. “If this trip wasn’t profitable, then it wasn’t worth it.”

“Was this worth Hawke’s life, then?” Fenris shouted. “Was it worth Sutherland’s and Marie’s?”

“They’re not fucking dead!” Piper yelled. “And that’s not what I’m saying! I’m–”

He cut her off. “We didn’t come here for the profits, Piper. Nobody on this ship gives a damn about the coin. We are here because of you!”

She recoiled. “You’re blaming _me_ for all of this?”

“You are the reason we agreed to this,” he said harshly. “We didn’t come for the profits or the promise of coin. You wanted an adventure, and the crew wants what you want.”

She swelled and took an angry step toward him. “Are you calling me a tyrant?” she hissed.

“No!” he bellowed. “Everyone on this ship is here because you saved them. You put yourself on the line for us, and we are trying to do the same for you. _That’s_ why we are here! That is why we trusted you in this venture.” He jabbed an accusatory finger at her. “ _That_ is what you need to think about, not about making coin!”

“I _am_ thinking about that!” Piper shouted. “Why the fuck else do you think I want to sell that orb?”

“You’re trying to prove something, that’s why!” he yelled back. “You have nothing to prove, Piper. We don’t need mountains of gold. This is not that kind of crew. If you haven’t realized that, then you are not paying attention.” He turned away from her and stumbled toward the officer’s quarters.

“I’m going to bring her back, Fenris,” she said fiercely.

“You had better,” he said, and he pointed at Merrill. “Or I will tear her heart from her chest.” He stormed away.

Cullen released a slow breath and rubbed the back of his neck. Merrill stomped her foot. “I hate when he speaks to me like that!” she complained.

“I’ll have a word with him when this is done,” Piper said. She gave Merrill a perfunctory smile. “Besides, if he ever tried, he would have to go through me.”

Merrill gave her a little smile in return, and Piper patted her shoulder. “I need you working on that translation, all right? As fast as you can.”

“Of course, Captain,” Merrill said. “Dorian, Cole, can you help me?”

Cole nodded eagerly. “Yes. I want to help.”

“Let’s work in my cabin,” Dorian said. “It’s certainly the most comfortable on the ship, no offense to the captain…” The three of them made their way to the officer’s quarters, leaving Cullen and Piper with Varric. 

Varric grimaced. “So… the Dread Wolf is a real thing, huh?”

“Yes,” Piper said. “I can’t fucking believe it either, frankly.” She tugged one of the braids at her temple. “How are the rest of the crew safe? I’m – gods, I’m fucking relieved they didn’t get hit by the Fen’Harel fog thing, but how…?”

“Sutherland and the others were scouting in the forest,” Varric said. “Whatever attacked them seemed to stop right at the treeline, or that’s what Sera told me.”

Piper exhaled and rubbed her face. “Is she okay?”

“She’s shaken up, but she’s okay,” he said. “She and Kaaras and a bunch of the others had a darts competition in the infirmary. They’re all keeping themselves cheered up down there.”

Piper took another deep breath and nodded, and Varric patted her elbow. “Go relax, Piper. Everything will–”

“I can’t relax,” Piper said. “I… I should go help Merrill, actually. See if there’s anything I can do.”

Cullen frowned. “Varric is right. You need rest.”

She scowled at him. “No, what I need is for my crew to be healthy and awake. I’m going to–”

“No,” Cullen said. 

Her eyebrows rose. “Excuse me?”

“I said no,” Cullen said firmly. “No more activity. You need rest, and Varric agrees. Isn’t that right, Varric?”

“Yep,” Varric said casually. “Sorry, Captain, but your first mates deem you unfit for anything right now except sleep.”

Piper curled her lip. “Bullshit. You’re being ridiculous.”

Cullen took her hands in his. “Piper, please,” he said softly. “I need to sit down. I am begging you to come and sit down with me.”

She sighed loudly. “Damn it, Cullen,” she hissed. She pulled her hands from his, then strode past him toward her cabin.

Cullen exhaled in relief, then exchanged a rueful look with Varric before trudging after her. He followed her into her quarters and closed the door, then turned to find her pacing restlessly behind the meeting table. 

“I’ll sit with you for five minutes,” she said. “Then I’m going to Dorian’s room to–”

“No,” Cullen said. “You need to slow down and rest.”

She stopped and folded her arms. “So now you’re giving me orders?”

He ignored her arch tone. “You must tell me what’s wrong,” he said. “We’re going to be married, Piper. If I’m going to be your husband, I need you to tell me when something is wrong.”

She narrowed his eyes. “If you think this is going to be one of those marriages where you can tell me what to do–”

“That is _not_ what I think,” he said angrily. “I think this is going to be a marriage where I am here to support you when you are upset or afraid, and I cannot do that if you won’t talk to me.”

A hint of vulnerability crossed her face, like a lighting flash of fear. Then her defensive scowl returned. “I’m not upset or afraid,” she said stubbornly. 

He wilted in exasperation. “Piper, _I_ am upset and afraid. And I am not the one whose hand is wounded.”

“It’s not wounded!” she retorted. “It doesn’t even hurt!”

He began to circle the table toward her. “I’m scared,” he said firmly. “I am scared for you.”

Her shoulders and face grew tense. “Stop it,” she said.

He continued to approach her. “I’m scared because of that mark on your hand, and I’m scared for Hawke and Sutherland and the others.”

“Stop it!” she snapped.

He reached out and took her hands again. “I am scared that we won’t leave this place alive.”

She pulled her hands from his and folded her arms. “Why are you doing this?” she demanded. 

Her voice was shaking now. Cullen ruthlessly pressed on. “Because I need you to admit that you are scared too,” he said. 

“What’s the point?” she exclaimed. “That won’t help anyone! Being scared and sad is a stupid waste of time!”

“That doesn’t mean you aren’t allowed to feel that way,” he said. The more she denied how she really felt, the more cold and stubborn she became, and the more Cullen felt as though his entire rib cage was aching.

She glared at him. “My crew needs me. They’re relying on me. It’s useless to be sad when I have people depending on me!”

“They are not dependent on you,” Cullen said. “They are adults. They can leave the Lady Luck whenever they want; you have always made that clear. They – _we_ – choose to stay because of you.”

She drew back, eyes going wide with offense. “So what, now you’re on Fenris’s side? I guess you think it’s my fault too that we’re stuck here and that Rynne is in some sort of coma and–”

“I am on your side,” Cullen said impatiently. “I will always be on your side. But I agree with the essence of what Fenris was trying to say.”

“And what’s that, huh?” Piper yelled. “What was he trying to say when he was tearing me a new asshole?”

“That the crew love you,” Cullen said loudly. “They want you to be happy.” 

Her eyes widened. Cullen stepped close to her and took her hands again. “They are your family. You told me that yourself.”

She dropped his gaze and pulled her hands from his. “Stop it.”

“They love you, Piper,” he said gently. “ _We_ love you. That’s why we’re here. We just want to help–” 

“I don’t need anyone’s help,” she yelled. Then she burst into tears. 

With a painfully pounding heart, Cullen gathered her in his arms and ushered her over to the couch, then sat down and cradled her in his lap. 

She sobbed and buried her face in his shirt. The sound of her tears was raw and painful, like something was clawing its way out from where she’d dammed it up for years, and as Cullen stroked her hair and her tattooed arm, he finally began to put the pieces together. The crew being her family, and the intensity of her wish to keep them safe at all cost, and her refusal of help and her refusal to acknowledge when she was sad or afraid… 

This was what Piper had always done. Ever since she was a child, a mere child of seven years old, she’d been forced to cope with problems and sadness on her own. She’d been forced to watch her father — her only family — die in front of her, and she’d been powerless to stop it. She’d been forced to harden up during her years on the streets on her own. And now, for her to see Hawke and Sutherland and her crew members being taken away, and feeling as though she couldn’t prevent it… 

He closed his eyes against a sudden burn of tears and pressed his cheek to the crown of her head. Some time later, she wiped her face roughly on her sleeve. “All right, fine. I’m fucking scared,” she said. “Are you happy now?”

Her voice was thick with tears. Cullen didn’t reply; he simply continued to stroke her hair. 

She sniffed hard. “I don’t know what this thing on my hand is. It feels weird and I don’t like it. I wish I hadn’t touched that fucking orb, all right? Does that make you happy?” She hiccuped and tucked her head against his neck, and Cullen tightened his arms around her in silence. 

“What if Rynne doesn’t wake up?” she said in a small voice. “Or Sutherland or the others? The crew will hate me if we lose even more of them. Fen will never forgive me if Rynne dies. And R-Rynne – she just wanted an adventure, and n-now this is what happened to her…” She hiccuped, and then she was sobbing into his shirt again.

Cullen breathed slowly to calm his aching heart. He cradled her against his chest until her breathing grew calm once more. 

She sniffled hard, then shot him a resentful look. “Are you happy now?”

He gazed tenderly at her red and swollen eyes. “It may sound cruel to say, but I am a bit happier now, yes,” he said gently. “I wanted you to tell me how you felt. I don’t like being shut out.” 

She ducked her head. “Well, I don’t like you seeing me like this,” she muttered. “I’m Captain Mad Piper, not a snivelling mess.”

He carefully brushed a lock of hair behind her ear. “I love seeing you like this.”

She shot him an offended look, and he winced. “What I mean… That, er, sounded wrong. What I meant to say is that I love seeing every side of you.” He squeezed her hand — her left hand with its unnerving flickering of light. “I _want_ to see every side of you. Even the side that cries. I would rather see you crying than feel like you are pulling away from me.”

She sighed and rubbed her face. “I know, I know. You… gods, Cullen, you know I love you, right?”

“I do,” he said quietly. “I know, Piper. But it is easy to forget when you brush me aside.”

Her face twisted. “I’m sorry,” she choked. “I – I didn’t mean to make you feel shitty…”

“I am to be your husband,” he said gently. “That means we are facing all of this together, for bad and for good. You don’t have to make your decisions alone.” He stroked her cheek. “And no amount of tears could make me love you less.”

She buried her face in his shirt once more, and Cullen held her tightly until her tears dwindled down to the odd hiccuping breath. 

She sighed and twined her arms around his neck. “I’m so tired,” she mumbled.

He stroked her back. “I am too. We should try and get some sleep.”

She nodded and permitted him to pick her up and carry her to the bed – a sure sign of how exhausted she truly was, since she would never usually allow anyone to carry her anywhere. He kicked off his boots as she dragged off her clothes, and soon they were spooned together beneath the covers.

She pulled his arm tightly around her waist, and they lay in silence for a minute. Her left hand was glowing, casting a flicker of light across the ceiling, and Cullen breathed slowly as he studied the eerie and nebulous shadows. 

What _was_ that livid light on her hand? She said it wasn’t hurting her, but Piper said a lot of things when she was trying to hide her hurt. She didn’t seem like she was in pain, but if the pain was faint enough, she would certainly ignore it and pretend nothing was wrong. But what if the green light in her hand got… worse, somehow? What if it did start to hurt her? Would they be able to fix it? Would _he_ be able to do something to help? Would Piper finally, at long last, allow him to help her if there was something he could do? 

Her quiet voice broke through his anxious thoughts. “What if I’m stuck with this thing on my hand forever?”

He swallowed hard. He was scared – Maker, he was _scared_ for her – but she was scared too. And now that she had finally confessed her fears, Cullen wanted nothing more than to wipe them away the best he could. 

He forced himself to adopt a lighthearted tone. “Then we will have a convenient source of light during nighttime walks on the beach,” he said. 

She huffed in amusement and patted his hand. “You’re such a romantic sucker.”

He chuckled softly, then closed his eyes and breathed slowly into her silvery hair, savouring the herbal scent of her skin and the harsher scent of her sweat in equal parts. 

“What if I can’t save Rynne from the Well of Sorrows?” she whispered.

He opened his eyes, then tucked his arm more tightly around her waist. “Don’t jump to that conclusion,” he murmured. “Wait until we have our options. Merrill will give us her guidance, and we will decide what to do next. _After_ we get some rest.”

She exhaled shakily and nodded, and Cullen closed his eyes once more. The heat from her bare skin bled through his shirt and trousers, loosening the anxious tension in his muscles, and it wasn’t long before the sheer exhaustion from this entire awful day carried him off to sleep.

**********************

“Captain? Cullen?” 

Cullen blearily opened his eyes. Merrill was knocking on the door. 

Piper grumbled into her cloud of hair, and Cullen wearily pushed himself up onto one elbow. The light coming through the windows was hazy and dim, indicating that it was either very early morning or very late at night, so they couldn’t have been asleep for more than a couple of hours. 

He shifted out of the bed. “Just a moment, Merrill,” he called. He turned back to Piper, who was already shoving back her hair and reaching for her discarded shirt. 

She slid out of bed while pulling on her shirt. Her face was alert and businesslike already, but before she went to the door, she paused beside him and pulled him down for a kiss.

It was a quick kiss, little more than a brief press of the lips. But her hand on his neck was tender and so was her tiny smile, and something hard and tense in his belly finally loosened at the obvious warmth in her face. 

She strode over to the door and threw it open. Merrill bustled right in with Cole and Dorian close behind. “We’ve been working all night,” she said tensely. “Cole was extremely helpful – well, in his own way, you know, he’s a bit indirect sometimes and I’m not always sure–”

Dorian cleared his throat, and Merrill giggled nervously. “Right, yes. I, um, well that is, _we_ figured out why Cullen wasn’t attacked by Fen’Harel’s, er, curse.”

Piper’s eyebrows rose. “What was it?” she said eagerly.

“Those flowers, if you can believe it,” Dorian said. “The ones that Cullen and Fenris were carrying around. The, er, _felan’asahngar._ ” He looked askance at Merrill. “Did I get that right?”

“Yes, that’s exactly right,” Merrill said.

“Wait. What?” Piper said blankly. “Cullen was protected because I gave him a fucking flower?”

“Yes,” Merrill said. “In one of the rubbings from the plinth, it mentioned ‘a boon of blushing gold, when plucked and kept, its favour held’. In the old writing, ‘favour’ and ‘luck’ looked very similar, so when the language was passed down to us–”

Piper held up a hand to stop her. “But wait. Cullen had a flower, but so did…” She trailed off and sighed. “Rynne gave the _felan’asahngar_ to Fenris.”

“And Fenris didn’t need it, because he’s an elf,” Merrill said sadly. “If she’d just held on to it–”

“We’re not going to do what-ifs,” Piper interrupted. “What else did you find out?”

Merrill nodded nervously. “Um, a lot of it confirms what Cole told us. The angry scratchings on the statue of Fen’Harel mention this word: _mien’harel_ , which means ‘a violent call for justice’. And also the word _tunan_ –”

“Justice or revenge,” Cole interrupted. “The faces were close, too close, and now he can’t see.” He gazed sadly at Piper. “I hoped you could help. A Lavellan with kindness and caring, like what she gave him before. But now I don’t know.”

“Okay,” Piper said slowly. “So what can we do? And how can I get rid of this?” She waved her left hand.

Dorian and Merrill exchanged a worried look, and Cullen’s stomach began to roil. Then Merrill turned back to them. “This attack by Fen’Harel is not the first time this has happened.”

“We’re aware,” Cullen said impatiently. “The skeletons at the temple proved that. What–”

“Just a minute, please, I’m getting to it,” Merrill said. “It seems like Fen’Harel will continue to attack as long as Piper has that mark. If we leave Arlathan before removing it, I’m… not sure what will happen.”

Piper sighed. “You mean you think the curse might come with us.” She rubbed her glowing palm irritably on her trousers.

“So how do we remove it?” Cullen demanded.

Merrill blew out a heavy breath. “We have an idea. But it’s… not a guarantee. We do know this much, though.” She turned her gaze to Piper, and her expression was unnervingly apologetic. “If we want to sort this out – and if we want to save Hawke and the others – we have to go back. We have to return to the temple of Fen’Harel.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am [Pikapeppa on Tumblr](https://pikapeppa.tumblr.com/), and our dearest mastermind and artist is [Schoute.](https://schoute.tumblr.com/) xoxox


	36. Wake Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Psst... go check out the last chapter! We added Piperford art after the chapter was posted! ❤️

###  FENRIS 

Fenris went to his cabin as quickly as his aching legs could carry him. His calves were trembling from the nearly non-stop running and his stomach was almost hurting from hunger, but that didn’t matter.

All that mattered was Hawke. She was alive, and she needed to stay that way. If there was a chance to undo what that cursed orb had done, she had to stay alive. She had to stay alive and breathing and warm to the touch, because if she – if Hawke– 

His gut twisted with nausea at the thought. He gritted his teeth and stumbled toward his cabin, then shoved open the door. 

Hawke was laid out on the bed. Her shirt was unlaced down to her bustier, and Anders was resting the side of his face against her chest. 

“What are you doing?” Fenris demanded. 

“ _Shh_. I’m listening to her heart,” he replied. He shot Fenris a baleful look. “What do you think I’m doing? Testing the unconscious woman’s bosom for a new pillow? I’m not that bad of a doctor.” 

Fenris scowled as he closed the door. He stood tensely at the foot of the bed until Anders lifted his head. 

He sighed and nodded. “Sounds good. Slow but steady. It really is like she’s just asleep and won’t wake up.” He rubbed his stubbled chin. “It’s odd. None of them are reacting to anything. Sternal rub, trapezius pinch–”

“We tried all of that,” Fenris interrupted. 

Anders raised an eyebrow. “Don’t snap at me. I’m just thinking out loud.” He reached for a basin on the floor beside his stool and lifted a cloth from the bowl, then squeezed it out and began wiping Hawke’s sweat-and-dirt-streaked face. 

Fenris stepped around the bed and held out his hand. “Let me do that,” he said. 

Anders gave him another exasperated look. “You look terrible, you know. _You_ need fluids and food, too. You should go to the galley.”

Fenris looked around his cabin, then picked up the nearest cup and drank the contents – a stale and stone-cold infusion of elfroot, as it so happened. He put the cup down and held out his hand. “Give me the cloth. I will do that.”

Anders sighed loudly, then slapped the cloth into his hand and stood up. “Fine. Knock yourself out. I can set up the fluids in the meantime.” He left Fenris’s cabin, leaving the door slightly ajar. 

Fenris glared at his departing back, then turned to Hawke. She really did just look like she was sleeping; her face was so relaxed and still. But even unconscious, the corners of her lips were turned up in the slightest hint of a curl, like she was smiling at him even in her sleep… 

His eyes were burning. He sniffed hard, then moistened the cloth in the basin and carefully brushed her bangs back from her forehead before wiping her forehead in soft and careful strokes. 

The sweat and dirt wiped away easily, revealing the pale golden smoothness of her skin, and a memory suddenly jumped to the front of his mind: the time that she had cleaned his skin in just this careful way, right after that terrible altercation with his sister in Afsaana. He’d been covered in blood and dirt, and Hawke had wafted into his room with her doctor’s kit and that damned unshakable smile on her face. She’d helped him to clean the dirt from his shoulders and his back, her tender fingers sluicing the water away from the waistband of his breeches as it carried away the evidence of his ordeal… 

A tear streaked its way down his cheek. He finished cleaning the left side of her face, then squeezed out the rag before moving on to clean the delicate dips around her eyes and nose. 

She’d been so kind to him that day – and every day, truly. Kind without being pitying, funny and maddeningly flirtatious, full of hope and optimism, and… and now she was silent and still, all because Fenris had been incautious. He’d known in his gut that this trip into the forest boded poorly. He knew it was a bad idea, but Hawke wanted so badly to go on her adventure with Piper, and he only wanted to make Hawke as happy as she made him. 

But now this had happened, and she wasn’t waking up. What if – what would he do if…? 

His vision blurred with tears, and he impatiently wiped them away. He dampened the cloth once more and wrung it out, and by the time Hawke’s face was clean, his own cheeks were wet and stiff with salt. 

He took a deep breath to ease the ache in his throat, then rinsed the cloth again and began cleaning her neck. He cradled her nape carefully as he wiped the streaks of sweat from her throat and her collarbones, and the longer he spent cleaning the perfect column of her neck, the more the contrast between this moment and the other moments they’d spent on this bed began to torture him. The thought of Hawke stretched out beneath him with his hand cradling her neck just so, her eyes closed like they were now, but her lips parted in rapture as they moved together in perfect time… 

A fresh rush of tears burned his eyes. He dropped the cloth in the basin and stroked her face. “Hawke, open your eyes. You _must_ open your eyes.” 

She didn’t move. Her eyelids remained stubbornly shut, her dusky eyelashes dark and still against her cheeks without even the telltale flutter of a dream.

He took her hand. “You said I didn’t need to be alone,” he whispered. “You promised you would stay with me. I… I need you to stay with me.” 

She didn’t move. She didn’t speak or blink or squeeze his hand, and his breath left him on a sudden sob. He bowed his head and clenched his free hand in his hair, gripping the roots until they hurt, but even the pain that rippled across his scalp wasn’t enough to distract him from the horrible lung-crushing ache in his chest. 

He needed her. He didn’t know quite when it had happened, but at some point in the last few months, Hawke had twined herself so thoroughly in every part of his life that he couldn’t imagine living without her anymore. She was everywhere and in everything, in his job as the master-at-arms and in his bed, in his arms and his closely guarded heart, and he couldn’t remember what his life was like before she’d come bursting into it. 

If she didn’t wake up, Fenris would be alone again. But it wouldn’t be like before, because now he would know what he was missing. He would know what it felt like to have someone see him, to truly _see_ even the ugliest parts of him and to want him anyway. He knew what it was like to have someone light up his life like a flaming beacon calling forth the happiness he’d never believed he could have. If Hawke didn’t wake up, he would know what he was missing, and that knowledge would torture him more than anything Danarius or any other slaver had ever done. 

He lifted his head. “Rynne,” he rasped. “Don’t leave me. I am begging you.” 

She didn’t reply. Her chest rose and fell very slowly with her breaths, and Fenris just held her hand and stared at her in rising misery.

“Can I come in?” Anders said quietly. 

Fenris flinched, then hastily wiped his face and shot Anders a glare. “Are you incapable of knocking?”

Anders huffed. “Sorry for announcing my presence in the usual manner,” he muttered. He sidled into the room with a tray of ominous-looking items: two glass bottles of clear liquid, a strip of cloth, a looped length of narrow rubber tubing, and something that looked like a slender and very sharp silver quill without the feather.

Fenris frowned. “What is all of that?”

“This is boiled water with a special mixture of salts,” Anders said. “It’s going to keep her hydrated. And no, I’m not going to try and feed it to her.”

“Saltwater?” Fenris said archly. “You think saltwater is going to keep her alive?”

“I _know_ saltwater is going to keep her alive,” Anders retorted. “Now move, will you? I need her arm.”

“Why?” Fenris asked.

“Because I’m going to inject the saltwater directly into her blood.”

Fenris gaped at him in horror. “You’re going to do _what_?”

He sighed loudly. “Fenris, it’s safe. I have done this at least a dozen times for various members of the crew. Sutherland and Shayle and Marie all had fluids injected today, and they’re fine.” He raised his eyebrows. “In fact, you should go to the infirmary and see how–”

“I am not leaving,” Fenris said loudly.

“Worth a try,” Anders muttered. In a louder voice he said, “Either way, you need to move, or _you_ can explain to Piper how your stubbornness killed the assistant doctor on the Lady Luck.”

Fenris scowled at him, but finally moved aside.

“Thank you,” Anders said, slightly acidly. He picked up the larger bottle of fluid and removed the cork. He affixed the rubber tubing to the mouth of the bottle, then looked around vaguely. “Have you got any rope here?”

“What for?” Fenris said suspiciously. Anders wasn’t going to tie Hawke down, was he? If he even suggested tying her down… 

“To tie the intravenous fluids to that wall sconce,” Anders said.

Fenris raised his eyebrows. “The intra…?”

“Fenris, just find some rope, will you?” Anders snapped. “Maker’s breath, are you going to be like this all night? Let me know now, and I’ll fetch some cotton balls to plug my ears.”

Fenris shot him a glare, but found some rope and handed it to Anders. Anders quickly formed a makeshift harness for the bottle, then hung it upside-down from the wall sconce so the tubing was hanging down. 

He held out the tubing to Fenris. “Take this. Pinch the end, or the fluid will leak out.”

Fenris did as he was told. He watched warily as Anders sat on the stool beside the bed and wiped the back of Hawke’s wrist with the contents of the smaller bottle – hard rum, if the heady vapours were anything to go by. He wiped his own hands with the rum as well, then wiped the silver quill nib. 

Then he took Hawke’s hand and lowered the sharpened tip of the nib toward the back of her wrist.

“Stop!” Fenris blurted. “What are you doing?”

“I’m inserting the needle into her vein,” Anders said. “Then I’ll attach the tube to the needle, and the fluids will go into her blood.”

He narrowed his eyes. “I’ve never seen you do this. How did you learn to do this?”

“A medical tome from Tevinter, as it so happens,” Anders replied. “It’s very modern medicine. Not many doctors–”

“Tevinter?” Fenris interrupted. “They likely gained that knowledge through the torture of slaves! You would benefit from the torture of slaves?”

Anders gave him a hard look. “Are you going to shout at me, or are you going to let me save Hawke’s life?”

Fenris glared venomously at him, then waved bad-temperedly at Hawke’s arm. Anders turned back to Hawke and swiftly slid the tip of the needle into the back of her hand near her wrist. 

Fenris winced, but he gave the rubber tube to Anders when he reached for it. Anders swiftly attached the tube to the needle, then jerked his chin at the tray. “Hand me that strip of cloth.”

Fenris silently handed him the cloth. Anders tied the needle flush to her wrist to keep it in place, then sat back with a sigh. “All right. Now I’ll just watch her for a bit to make sure she doesn’t have an adverse reaction to the treatment.”

“Adverse reaction?” Fenris said in horror. “You said you’d done this a dozen times! You said this would save–”

“Fenris, stop this!” Anders complained. “There’s a risk involved in any medical treatment! Elfroot salve holds a risk if someone is allergic. Even those stitches that Hawke sewed into your skin could become infected.” He gave Fenris a pointed look. “Every treatment holds an element of risk. You have to accept it if you want the problem to get better.”

Fenris closed his mouth and glared at Anders. This talk about risks, the benefits and payoffs of taking risks… Anders might be talking about medicine, but his words were uncannily like something that Hawke would say. 

A horrible pang of longing swelled in his chest, and he rubbed his face roughly to ward it off. Then Anders’s sardonic voice pierced his thoughts. “You know, you might want to try being nicer to the man who’s keeping your girlfriend alive.”

Fenris lowered his hands and glared at him. “Is that a threat, _doctor?_ ”

“No!” Anders exclaimed. “It’s a reasonable suggestion. Don’t be so bloody touchy. Maker only knows what she sees in you.” He rose from the stool and waved impatiently at it. “Just sit down, all right? You look like you’re about to fall over. Looking at you is making me tired.” 

Fenris shot him a resentful look, but he sat in the stool that Anders had vacated. He reached for Hawke’s hand, then stopped himself; the evil-looking needle and tube protruding from her skin made his stomach roil. 

“You can hold her hand,” Anders said in a gentler tone. “Just don’t touch the equipment.”

Fenris gingerly took her hand. He stared breathlessly at her face, waiting and hoping for her eyelids to flutter or her lips to part on a sleepy murmur…

He waited and watched her face, but she didn’t move. Her chest rose and fell in time with her slow breaths, but she was otherwise completely still.

Behind him, Anders slowly took a seat on the chest where Fenris kept his clothes. Fenris ignored him and continued to watch Hawke’s sleeping face. 

“This won’t wake her up, you know,” Anders said quietly. “It’s just to keep her from dehydrating.”

“And from starving,” Fenris said. “Right?”

Anders hesitated for a moment. “Not… no, it won’t stop her from starving.”

Fenris whipped around in alarm. “What do you – then what’s the point?”

“You die sooner of dehydration than starvation,” Anders said. “This gives her more time.”

“How much more time?”

Anders paused again, and Fenris scowled at him. “How much?”

He made a little face. “It’s hard to say exactly. Seven to ten days, maybe.”

“You’re not sure?” Fenris demanded. “How are you not sure?”

“Intravenous fluids are a new science,” Anders said. He shot Fenris a baleful look. “I’m one of the few doctors outside of Tevinter who performs it, you know. You should be grateful.”

Fenris glared at him for a moment longer, then turned back to Hawke. “ _Vishante kaffas,_ ” he muttered. 

They sat in a rancorous silence for a moment. Then Anders spoke again. “As I was saying, this won’t wake her up. You should go get something to eat. You won’t do her any good just sitting here.”

“I am not leaving her side,” Fenris insisted.

Anders _tsk_ ed. “Do you think she’d want _you_ to starve?”

“Don’t talk to me about what Hawke wants,” Fenris snapped. “You don’t know what she wants.”

Anders scoffed. “Oh, of course. Because you’re the _only_ one who knows her, right? Wrong. Everyone on the ship knows her. She’s friends with everyone.” He jerked his head at the door. “Everyone out there is worried about her, you know. And about you.”

“Me?” Fenris said in surprise. 

Anders grunted. “Half of them heard your little diatribe at the captain. They’re worried about how you’re doing since Hawke was, er, attacked. Seriously, you should go to the galley. Have a drink and something to eat with the others. They’ll want to know you’re okay.”

Fenris stared at him for a moment, then turned back to Hawke again. “I don’t need their pity. Or yours.” 

“Nobody pities you, you miserable grouch,” Anders said in exasperation. “They respect you as the master-at-arms. And they _like_ you for some weird reason.” He shot Fenris a sardonic look. “Most people enjoy having their friends around when someone they love is sick.”

Fenris curled his lip. “That hasn’t been my experience,” he muttered.

“What part?” Anders said. 

Fenris shrugged irritably. “Any of it. Having… company when you’re ill. I was left alone to heal when I was ill.”

“Your parents left you alone when you were sick?” Anders said.

“My parents are dead,” Fenris said harshly. “They died when… when I was young.” He shot Anders a scathing look. “I spent most of my life as a slave in Minrathous. I never had the luxury of companionship when I was ill.”

Anders raised his eyebrows, then folded his arms. “How was I supposed to know that?”

Fenris frowned. “What?”

“That you were a slave in Minrathous before Piper freed you from that slave ship. You never talk about yourself,” Anders said. “No one knows anything about your life before you joined the crew.” He gave Fenris a careful look. “Actually, this is the most you’ve ever said about your life before the Lady Luck.”

Fenris eyed him mistrustfully. “Why do you want to know about my life before the Lady Luck?”

Anders rolled his eyes. “Maker’s mercy, you’re so suspicious. It’s hardly unusual to know things about the people you share a ship with.”

Fenris scowled at him, then turned to face Hawke again. He ran his thumb slowly over the back of her hand and watched the gentle rise and fall of her chest, and for a while, he and Anders were silent.

“I was taken from the alienage when I was twelve,” Fenris finally said. “I was forced to become a fighter. A personal bodyguard for a wealthy merchant.”

Anders was quiet for a moment. “What about before that?”

He shrugged and traced Hawke’s knuckles with his thumb. “Before that… I suppose my life was better. It is difficult to remember when what came after was…when it made such an impression.”

Anders hummed a soft acknowledgement. “And the, er… tattoos?”

Fenris clenched his jaw for a moment before replying. “They are lyrium and ink. Markings meant to strengthen me and to intimidate.” He shot Anders a pointed look. “A medical experiment, forced on me by Tevinter doctors. A failed one, I should add.”

Anders’s face fell into a look of unguarded surprise. “Oh. Well, now it makes sense.”

Fenris pursed his lips, then turned back to Hawke. 

Anders shifted slightly on the chest of clothes. “You could have said something earlier,” he said. “It would have made both our lives easier if I knew.”

Fenris shot him a sharp look. “Forgive me for not sharing my life story with you, a _stranger_ , in order to ease your discomfort.”

“I’m _trying_ to be nice, you ass,” Anders said loudly. “I’m trying to say I’m sorry you had a hard time of it. If it makes you feel any better, my life wasn’t exactly sunshine and daisies before I joined the Lady Luck.” He shot Fenris a resentful look. “Not that you would know anything about that either.”

Fenris frowned. It was true; Fenris knew very little of Anders, aside from the fact that he was from somewhere in Ferelden and he was unnervingly lax in his medical practices.

He shrugged. “You have no reason to be sorry. Not to me, at least.”

“Well, that’s a relief,” Anders said sarcastically. “I was incredibly choked up that I might not have your forgiveness for something I didn’t do.”

Fenris glared at him. “ _You_ are an ass.”

Anders huffed. “We have something in common after all, then.”

There was another tense and loaded pause. Fenris pointedly turned away and ran his thumb over a tiny birthmark on the back of Hawke’s hand. 

“What happened out there?” Anders asked quietly. “Out in the forest?”

Fenris took a deep breath. “We found an ancient elven temple,” he said. “It turns out that Fen’Harel is real. That is what – well, Merrill _thinks_ that’s what attacked Hawke and the other humans. A curse laid by the Dread Wolf of elven legend.”

Anders raised his eyebrows. “That’s… no. That’s ludicrous.”

“I would agree if I hadn’t witnessed it myself,” Fenris said flatly. 

Anders released a heavy sigh. “How are we supposed to undo an elven curse?”

“We were hoping _you_ might undo this and wake her up,” Fenris said tensely.

Anders let out a mirthless little laugh. “I don’t know whether to be flattered or horrified that you thought I could.”

Fenris didn’t reply. He was loathe to admit it, but he really had been hoping that Anders’s medical training would bring Hawke out of this intractable sleep. Knowing now that the best they could hope for was to keep her alive for more than a week, alive but trapped in the silent and unmoving shell of her body… 

His eyes were prickling again. He hunched his shoulders self-consciously and blinked hard.

Anders shifted on the chest again. “Look, if anyone will undo this, it’s Piper,” he said. “You know her: she’s like a mabari with a bone. She won’t let this go until Hawke and the others are awake.”

Fenris nodded silently. His throat was swollen, and he couldn’t risk opening his mouth right now for fear of what might come out.

Anders was quiet for a moment longer. Then he stood up. “No adverse reaction,” he said. “Hawke is doing fine. I’ll get you a biscuit or something. You really should eat.” He made his way toward the door.

Fenris subtly cleared his throat. “You have my thanks,” he said gruffly.

Anders paused by the door and eyed him for a moment. “You’re welcome,” he said. Then he left, closing the door softly behind him.

Fenris drew a deep breath, then released it in a sigh and bowed his head. _Venhedis fasta vass,_ he truly was exhausted. His entire body was aching, and his stomach was cramping from hunger in a way that it hadn’t done since before he’d joined the Lady Luck. 

He slowly rose from the stool and trudged around to the other side of the bed. Carefully, so as not to disturb Hawke, he crawled onto the bed beside her. 

Then he remembered that no amount of jostling was going to disturb her from the cursed sleep that had taken her. 

The lump in his throat swelled once more, and he swallowed hard to force it down as he stretched out beside her. He lay still for a moment, his eyes tracing over the curves and lines of her sleeping face, but the longer he lay beside her, the more the ache in his chest seemed to swell. 

This was so unnatural – lying beside her without touching her. If she was awake, she would never permit the lack of touch. Hawke was constantly touching him when she was awake or asleep, her hands stroking his arms and her fingers on his neck and her naked chest pressed to his back when they slept, and the easy intimacy of her touch had somehow sunk so deeply into his everyday routine that he could practically feel the chill that her missing touch had left behind. 

Carefully so as not to jostle the needle and tubing in her arm, Fenris shifted closer to her and slid his arm around her waist. He tucked himself as closely against her side as he could without disturbing her arm, then inhaled the scent of her hair. 

She smelled like dirt and rain and the sweat that he’d wiped away from her beloved face, but underneath the rougher scents of their ordeal was _her_ scent: the warm smell of sandalwood that always seemed to linger faintly in her hair and skin, like some sort of permanent perfume. 

He squeezed his eyes shut, but to no avail; the tears were already coming, trickling along his temple to drip onto his folded arm. He took a breath to try and calm himself, but instead he gasped out a sob. 

_I love you,_ he thought. _Please wake up._ He needed Hawke to wake up. If she didn’t wake, nothing would ever be right again. 

He pressed his lips to her hair. “Hawke,” he whispered. “Wake up.”

****************************

“Fenris, wake up.”

His eyes snapped open at the first syllable of his name. He sat up suddenly, already reaching for his dagger before he could even register the time of day. But the intruder spoke before he could pull out the weapon. 

“Easy, Fen. It’s just me.”

“Piper?” he croaked. He released the handle of his dagger and rubbed his face. 

“Yeah,” she said quietly. “Sorry to wake you. It’s urgent.”

“What?” he said blearily. Then he belatedly remembered what had happened yesterday. The temple, the orb, the insidious fog that sank into Hawke’s open mouth–

He frantically looked down at her, torn between hope and terror. Was it possible she’d woken…? But no, she was still silent and unmoving but for the rise and fall of her ribs.

He slumped in disappointment. The needle and rubber tube were removed from her hand, however, and the fluid equipment was tidily stacked on top of the chest where Fenris kept his clothes, so he decided to take this as a sign that she didn’t need more fluids for now.

He looked at Piper, who was sitting on the stool near Hawke’s head. “What is it?” he said.

“I have to go back to the temple,” she said.

He frowned as she went on. “Merrill translated more of the rubbings. The curse in the orb… apparently it’s some kind of transference thing. It stays dormant in the orb until someone touches it – an elf, I mean – and then it transfers to that person and takes out any humans in the area until you put it back.”

He frowned more deeply. “Put it back…?” Suddenly he realized something. He looked at her with wide eyes. “Those dead men outside the temple. A previous iteration of the curse?”

She nodded. “We’re thinking the last time the curse was active was when that qunari-Tevinter treaty was signed. The one that Merrill found with no date? The elf that touched it was probably a slave, unfortunately. Someone probably forced them to return the curse to the orb, and then they made that treaty to keep any humans out of the danger zone, including the human converts among the qunari.”

“So if you put back the curse, Hawke will be cured?” he said hopefully.

She hesitated just long enough to drop his hopes once more. “Not… no,” she said apologetically. “If I just put the curse back, Merrill and Cole think that the curse won’t strike anyone else, but it also won’t be lifted from Rynne or the others.”

He dragged a hand through his hair. “But then–”

“We’re going to figure something else out,” Piper interrupted. “We’ll find a way to break the curse when we get back to the temple.” She raised her eyebrows at him. “I’m going to get her back, Fen. I mean it.”

He swallowed hard. “I know you do,” he said. But just because she meant it didn’t mean it was possible.

She frowned. “You believe me, right?”

For a moment, he didn’t reply. His life had held too many disappointments for him to believe the best of anything, especially since the best thing in his life had been stolen from him by some ineffable evil fog. But Piper was determined, and expressing his doubts would only make her more belligerent.

He nodded silently, but his response didn’t seem to satisfy her. She sat back on the stool and folded her arms. “I’m going to get her back,” she said confidently. “I’ll outwit the Dread Wolf, you’ll see. That’ll make for a good tavern story. Watch me get free drinks at the Hanged Man next time we go to Rialto.”

“Better yet, you’ll finally have a story to tell at the Hanged Man that’s true,” he retorted.

She snorted with laughter. “Fuck you too, Fen.”

He gave her a feeble smile, then shifted into a cross-legged position on the bed. Hawke’s head was tilted slightly to the side, and Fenris carefully repositioned her head on the pillow. 

Piper cleared her throat. “Listen, I, um… I swear I didn’t think there really was a Fen’Harel.”

He shrugged wearily. “I didn’t either. But that voice we were hearing was undeniably ominous. Even you must admit that.” He cut her a sharp look. “I know you had your doubts about the temple and that orb. Why did you touch it?”

She sighed and looked away, and they were both silent for a moment. Then she turned back to him with a determined scowl. “I’m the captain, okay? I’m the captain of the Lady Luck. It’s my job to look after you bunch of salty assholes and make sure everyone’s happy. I just… wanted to…” She shrugged irritably. “I didn’t want it to be for nothing.”

He eyed her sternly. “You look after the crew well enough by listening to your instincts. You should listen to them next time.”

“Thanks,” she muttered. “I think.”

They fell silent again, and Fenris gazed sadly at Hawke’s beautiful unconscious face. Then Piper broke the silence again. “Cole was right, you know. This wasn’t your fault.”

He clenched his jaw before replying. “I should have protected her.”

Piper scoffed softly. “There was no way to protect her from that fucking fog shit.”

“There was,” he retorted. “We should have stayed here on the ship.”

Piper gave him a skeptical look. “So what, you’re going to keep Rynne locked away on the Lady Luck just in case anything bad ever happens to her?”

He glared at her. “I won’t be doing anything with Rynne unless she wakes up.”

“She will,” Piper said fiercely. “I’ll make sure of it. And when she does, she’s going to be pissed if you try to be all ‘we’re staying on the ship forever’ with her. No one ever has any fun by just staying put.”

He scowled and hunched his shoulders. An awkward moment later, Piper tapped her palms on her knees. “Okay, well. Now that I’m done arguing with your stubborn ass…” She smoothed a hand over the braids at her temple before rising from the stool.

Fenris slid off of the bed as well. He suddenly felt strange for the informality of sitting on his bed while Piper was here. “When are you going back to the forest?” he asked.

“Now,” she said, to his mild surprise. “I just wanted to, um, check in on Rynne first.”

He met her hazel eyes in silence. Her arms were folded, and there was something about her defensive posture that made him realize why she was really here.

She was trying to apologize. 

He tugged his ear. “I’m not… I am remaining here with Hawke. You are aware–”

“I know,” she said quickly. “I wasn’t even going to ask. If it was Cullen who got hit, I…” She trailed off, then waved her hand vaguely. “Seriously, don’t even think about it. You’re right where you should be.”

He nodded, and they stood there in an increasingly awkward silence. 

Finally he spoke. “There is a saying in Tevinter: _na via lerno victoria._ ”

She cocked her head. “What’s that mean?”

“‘Only the living know glory’,” he said. “Be careful, Captain.” He extended his hand to her.

Piper eyed him silently for a moment. Then she hugged him. 

He froze, startled by the hold of her wiry arms and the ticklish cloud of her hair in his face. A second later, before he could speak or move or hug her back, she released him and gently punched his shoulder, then left his cabin without looking back. 

He slowly made his way over to the stool and sat down, then noticed the plate that someone – likely Anders – had placed on the bedside table. It held a hardtack biscuit, an orange, and a generous slice of salted beef. 

His stomach clenched eagerly at the sight. He picked up the orange and dug his nails into the peel, and when the heady citrus scent burst from the peeled skin, he held the fruit over Hawke’s nose. 

“It is your favourite,” he said softly. “Can you smell it? I would share it with you if you woke.”

She didn’t wake. Fenris gazed longingly at her, then began to listlessly eat the fruit.

 _Piper will fix this,_ he told himself. It was a hope more than a plan and he knew it, but he had no choice now but to cling to it and to pray that Piper would bring Hawke back to him. 

He swallowed the last segment of orange along with the lump of misery in his throat, then went on to eat the dried meat. He would need to regain his strength in case Piper’s plan failed. 

If Piper’s plan failed, Fenris would be returning to the elven temple. And he would burn that fucking temple down until it was nothing more than ash.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who did a bunch of research about the history of intravenous fluid therapy for this chapter? [sheepishly raises hand] I know that the timeline is a little off considering this fic is more 18th century Golden Age of Piracy era and IV fluids weren’t a thing until the 19th century, but THIS IS A FICTIONAL STORY AND I DO WHAT I WANT. 
> 
> I am[Pikapeppa on Tumblr,](https://pikapeppa.tumblr.com/) and your divine artist and world-creator is [Schoute!](https://schoute.tumblr.com/)xoxox

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [The One She Runs To](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20405398) by [Johaerys](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Johaerys/pseuds/Johaerys)




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